


Something Old, Something New

by HixyStix, werecadet



Series: Cold 'verse [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But it all ends happily, Can't lie this starts rough, Deaths in Flashbacks Only, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Non-Graphic Smut, Parallel Universes, Suicidal Thoughts, That's Not How The Force Works, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, art included, please pay attention to the chapter warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HixyStix/pseuds/HixyStix, https://archiveofourown.org/users/werecadet/pseuds/werecadet
Summary: During the Battle of Endor, Kallus loses Zeb as they try to take an Imperial bunker.  For the next five years, Kallus deals with Zeb’s death in the worst possible ways, ending up isolated and lonely, wallowing in self-pity and drowning his sorrows in alcohol whenever it gets to be too much.One morning after a night of drinking, however, he wakes up to find himself in the presence of a very familiar – and very confused – lasat.  It doesn’t take long to work out that they’re both suffering from the loss of their lovers years before.They have an impossible second chance at happiness.  Are they willing to take it?  Or will the guilt and pain of their grief be too strong for their strange relationship to take hold?
Relationships: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios
Series: Cold 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049573
Comments: 107
Kudos: 125
Collections: WIP Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My amazing artist partner (and cheerleader) for this is werecadet, @buffaluffalo on Twitter!
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my super amazing beta WhiplashCrash!
> 
> Special thanks also to cheerleaders/brainstormers/hand-holders chocolatemudkip and ElleTchj!
> 
> Throughout this fic, I have used Anath_Tsurugi’s Lasana, taking some liberties with it. A huge thanks to her for allowing us all to play in her linguistic playground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The major character deaths all take place in flashback. If you’d like to avoid reading how they happened in detail, skip the italicized-and-indented portions of this chapter.

“You know, a man drinks like this every night, he’s gonna die,” the bartender said, sliding another lomin-ale across the bar to the tall, bearded blond who’d occupied that particular seat for most of the night – and a number of nights before, as well.

“When?” Kallus glared at the man behind the counter with blood-shot eyes. “Keep them coming and stay out of my business,” he snapped.

The bartender quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything else, probably not wanting to push things and risk losing a regular customer.

Good. Kallus hadn’t patronized this bar for conversation and didn’t appreciate the bartender’s attempt to start one up. Not that evening; not ever.

It was an auspicious day for the galaxy. Five years exactly since the second Death Star was destroyed. Five years since the effective end of the Empire.

Five years, also, since the effective end of Alexsandr Kallus.

> _“Alex,” said Zeb softly as they crouched in the Endor undergrowth._
> 
> _“Shh,” Alex replied. He shifted his grip on his bo-rifle, mind on the mission._
> 
> _“Alex,” repeated Zeb, a little more insistently._
> 
> _Alex looked at his lover. “What is it, Zeb?” he asked, sounding more irritated than he actually was._
> 
> _“Marry me.”_
> 
> _Frozen in place, all Alex could do was stutter, “W– what?”_
> 
> _“Marry me,” Zeb repeated. “I’m tired of waitin’ for the right moment or for the war to end. You’re **mine** , Alexsandr Kallus, and I want everyone to know it.”_
> 
> _Alex’s stomach twisted into knots. He already knew he wanted to spend his life with Zeb, if the lasat would have him, but he’d never considered **marriage**. Marriage was for other people, people who hadn’t helped commit atrocities in the Empire’s name, people who **deserved** happiness, wasn’t it? But here was Zeb, asking as earnestly as if Alex hadn’t helped destroy Lasan and its people._
> 
> _In the face of such an honest question, Alex had only one honest answer for the man he loved._
> 
> _“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Garazeb Orrelios.”_
> 
> _Zeb’s green eyes sparkled, obviously pleased. “Good. That’s all I needed to know.”_
> 
> _A smile spread across Alex’s face, the kind he saved for Zeb and Zeb alone. “I suppose that’s all I need to know, too.”_

Glowering at the world in general, Kallus downed half the lomin-ale in one long pull. He’d’ve drunk the whole thing at once if he hadn’t needed air. Maybe, if he had drinks enough, quickly enough, he’d stop remembering everything in such excruciating detail.

> _Zeb never got to ask Hera to marry them._
> 
> _Alex never got to say ‘yes’ again._
> 
> _While Alex was carried into the Rebel’s planetside medbay after it was all over, half of their company lay dead deep in the Endor forest, Captain Garazeb Orrelios – and Alex’s soul – among the casualties._
> 
> _It’d been a stupid, simple mine, of all things. The Imperials had mined the area around their outpost to keep some of Endor’s larger creatures away. The bomb, meant for spacecraft, was strong enough to kill fifteen beings at once, including a hardy, typically hard-to-injure lasat._
> 
> _Alex missed the heart of the blast by barely half a meter. He suffered a concussion and nearly lost limbs, but none of that compared to the pain of seeing his Zeb in **pieces**._
> 
> _In some ways, it might have been a mercy; Zeb must have died quickly. He was too close to the explosion, with too many parts missing and too much bright red blood soaking into the ferns, to have survived more than a few seconds, if at all._
> 
> _The thought was no comfort to Alex in the moment. He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t hear his own wails as he dragged himself with bloodied arms to sit by Zeb, stroking what was left of his face._
> 
> _“ **No** ,” he insisted, unaware he was screaming. “No, you can’t leave me. Not tonight. Not after… No!”_
> 
> _Zeb didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond._
> 
> _Zeb was dead and there wasn’t a thing Alex could do to change it._
> 
> _He clung so tightly to Zeb’s body that after they took the bunker, when his remaining troops pulled him away, Alex brought fistfuls of purple fur with him._
> 
> _All the way back to the rendezvous point in the Ewok camp, Alex kept his hands clenched so that he wouldn’t lose the soft strands of fur. Wouldn’t lose his last physical connection to the one being he loved more than anything in the galaxy._
> 
> _Hera found him, after the medics were through with him. He’d never walk the same again, they said, but they hadn’t had to amputate anything._
> 
> _“That’s one good thing,” Hera said, gently touching his back. “Zeb would want_ – _”_
> 
> _“Zeb would want to be alive!” Alex snarled, pulling away from her. He didn’t know who’d told her; **he** certainly hadn’t. Somehow, she knew and she wanted to comfort him._
> 
> _Alex didn’t want comfort. He wanted to personally execute every single Imperial they’d captured as prisoners of war, as painfully as possible. He wanted to rip them apart just as their bomb had ripped Zeb apart, but slowly. He wanted the Emperor there to see if the Sith really did have the power to reverse death – and if not, then for Palpatine to kill Alex for his traitorous actions years before._
> 
> _He wanted to die._
> 
> _But Hera was right, as furious as it made him. Alex knew that if the roles were reversed – if he had died and Zeb had lived – he’d want Zeb to stay alive and not do anything rash._
> 
> _But then, Zeb had always been stronger than Alex._
> 
> _He would stay alive, for Zeb’s sake, he swore, but there was no guarantee he would ever live again._

Three hours and many more drinks later, Kallus stumbled out of the bar, barely able to keep upright.

As far as he could tell, the night was clear and cool, with the stars sparkling cheerily overhead.

He hated it. He’d come to Hutt Space specifically for its nastiness. By rights, it ought to be raining, _storming_ , anything to make the world as miserable as he felt. The galaxy had no business being pleasant anymore, not without Zeb in it.

He rubbed his face, trying to get the world to stop spinning long enough that he could orient himself towards his small efficiency apartment. His beard, once meticulously trimmed into neat mutton chops, now grew wild and ragged, the rosy blond slowly gathering grays. Kallus knew that Zeb would disapprove were he there, but that was the point, wasn’t it? Zeb _wasn’t_ there. If Kallus didn’t want to take care of himself, he didn’t have to. If he wanted to rot away in the asshole of the galaxy until something or someone mercifully killed him, he could.

And that’s exactly what he was doing: waiting for that fortunate day.

 _There. To the right. My apartment._ Kallus kept one hand on the wall lining the sidewalk as he made his way down the street. Just past two more buildings and up three floors in the turbolift and he could fall over in the pull-down bed.

Eventually, somehow – Kallus really couldn’t track how long it took or how he did it, nor did he care – he made it to his room.

He collapsed on the hard bed, alone.

He passed out, alone.

He woke up ten hours later, not alone.

Despite the headache that pulsed behind his eyes before he even opened them, despite the nausea already churning in his stomach, Kallus didn’t regret the night before. He knew that if he hadn’t drunk himself half to death, he would have found another way to make it all the way to death.

Victory at Endor days were hard, the anniversaries sapping his desire to live a little more each year.

He’d promised that he would stay alive for Zeb, though, and he was – just barely. Just enough to keep his word.

Groaning, he rubbed his face, trying to will himself to open his eyes and face yet another day.

“Yer awake,” rumbled a low voice off to his right somewhere. “I’ve got a blaster on you, so move carefully.”

Kallus’s eyes shot open, then clenched shut again, the sunlight through the window too bright to handle.

He must have _actually_ drunk himself to death, because he knew that voice. Dreamed about that voice every night. Prayed to the Ashla every morning to let him hear it again, just once.

 _Garazeb_.

Kallus tried again, opening his eyes more slowly. He focused on the ceiling, but the ceiling wasn’t the mottled, water-stained white of his apartment. It was a yellowing, crumbling beige.

This wasn’t his apartment.

Had he stumbled into someone else’s home? He’d certainly been inebriated enough to make that mistake.

“Sit up.”

There was Zeb’s voice again. Kallus turned his head slowly, nursing the headache so it didn’t get any worse.

Vaguely, Kallus registered that he was, indeed, in a strangely decorated room, but he didn’t have enough brainpower to actually think about it. All his working brain cells were too busy processing the fact that Zeb sat there, on a couch, aiming a blaster at Kallus as promised.

“‘M dead,” Kallus croaked. “‘M dead and the Ashla has taken me.” He didn’t know how the blaster figured into his afterlife, but he was sure he’d figure that out later. Right now, he was too busy just _looking_ at Zeb, whole and breathing.

“I said sit up.” Zeb motioned with the blaster muzzle. “You’re makin’ my trigger finger twitchy just bein’ here.”

Kallus struggled a little, but he sat up, propping himself up on his knees.

He finally noticed just how _angry_ Zeb looked.

Maybe it wasn’t the Ashla that had taken him. Maybe it was the Bogan. Maybe he was finally paying for all the wrong he’d done. Zeb shooting him made a terrible, twisted sort of sense. He deserved worse than that, to be honest.

“How dare you be here?” Zeb growled. “I don’t know who you are or who put you up to this, but you need to leave or I will enjoy ripping your arms out.”

Kallus squinted a little, focusing more on Zeb. He was… off somehow, and not just in the way he threatened Kallus. He seemed a little more haggard than Kallus remembered, a little more hunched in on himself. The small rip in his left ear was new. “Zeb?” he asked, just to be sure. It was possible he was actually still alive and still drunk enough to be seeing things.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?”

“It– it’s Alex. Zeb, it’s me. Is it really you or am I dreaming?”

The blaster wavered in Zeb’s hands. “Stop acting like you’re him. You’re not him. He’s gone. He’s _dead_. This isn’t funny!”

“ _You’re_ the one who’s dead,” Kallus said, feeling like he was way too sober. “I watched you die on Endor.”

“Alexsandr died over Coruscant.” Zeb spoke simply and deliberately, but Kallus recognized the pain hiding behind those green eyes. “He tricked me into an escape pod and then he died with the ship.”

Kallus didn’t know what to say to that.

Zeb was having trouble holding the blaster steady. The longer he looked at the intruder, the more the man looked like his Sasha – just older and ragged around the edges, as if he’d quit caring a long time ago.

That didn’t seem like Sasha, though. Even at his worst, Sasha had cared about appearances. He’d had days where he’d fallen apart inside, but to everyone except Zeb, he’d always presented himself as put together and confident.

Just a few minutes before, Zeb had been certain this was someone’s idea of a cruel joke. He hadn’t thought he’d made enemies in Hutt Space, but it was possible. But who there knew about Sasha? He thought he’d kept his past to himself.

After Endor, he and Sasha had lived on Lira San for six glorious months before Sasha got tapped to lead that damned fool mission to Coruscant. After the mission failed and after losing his husband to the Imperial Remnant, Lira San had become a cold place, somewhere for Zeb to merely exist, somewhere that made him feel lonelier than he ever had before despite being surrounded by his own kind.

So he’d left. He’d come to this rough backwater planet at the ass-end of the galaxy because beings left other beings alone there. He could exist without needing to connect, interacting with others on a superficial level only when necessary. Not even Hera tried to follow him this far into Hutt Space, which suited him just fine.

He was alone, finally and forever.

Or so he’d thought.

Just an hour before, Zeb had been asleep on his couch – beds, even small ones, felt too big and too empty for him without Sasha – and woke to find someone passed out on the bed he’d never cared to use.

Someone who looked a lot like Sasha.

At first, Zeb thought it was a bad dream or a case of mistaken identity, but…

This man looked like Sasha. He sounded like Sasha. He’d called himself ‘Alex’, but that was a nickname for Alexsandr, just like ‘Sasha’. The _wrong_ nickname for his husband, but a nickname nonetheless.

Sasha was dead. Zeb had watched the ship break up, knew Sasha couldn’t have survived the vacuum of space. He knew this wasn’t his husband returned to him.

But _something_ strange was going on. _Somehow_ this man had ended up in Zeb’s apartment with no trace of his arrival. There was too much going on for this to be a mere coincidence.

Which meant either someone was playing a malicious joke or…

 _Or what?_ There wasn’t a reasonable alternative. Sasha was dead. The dead didn’t come back.

So why couldn’t he bring himself to pull the trigger and end this horrible excuse for some soulless bastard’s entertainment?

It was obvious, really. Zeb knew _exactly_ why he wouldn’t be able to kill this man who was being so cruel to him.

He couldn’t stand to lose Sasha again. He couldn’t stand the thought of seeing anyone who even looked remotely like him dead, much less the thought of being the one to kill them; the pain was still too raw, even four years later.

> _Everything that could have gone wrong, had gone wrong._
> 
> _Sasha and Zeb had stepped out of their short retirement to head up the mission to liberate Coruscant from the Imperial Remnant – or at least to equip the populace to rise up against their former leaders – only because Sasha was a Coruscant native, raised and educated there as well as based there during his early ISB days. Sasha knew Coruscant well, so Sasha agreed when the New Republic came begging his help._
> 
> _Zeb ought to have put his foot down and said no, but he hadn’t._
> 
> _That had been his first great mistake. He hadn’t said no and that’s how Zeb found himself a short time thereafter on the bridge of a ship beginning to slowly fall apart._
> 
> _The **Shadow** had been a good, solid ship, perfect to serve as the seat of command for a mission that was supposed to be simple. She’d seen plenty of battles already and handled them well. But even she couldn’t stand up to a barrage of turbolaser fire from seven Star Destroyers at once._
> 
> _“Shields down! Hyperdrive down! No auxiliary power!” yelled a panicked technician._
> 
> _Zeb growled and took his husband’s hand. “Call for evacuation. This ship ain’t making it out of the system.”_
> 
> _A pang of guilt flashed across Sasha’s face, but he composed himself quickly and nodded. Grabbing the ship’s intercom, he called for a total evacuation of the **Shadow**. When the bridge crew didn’t move, Sasha barked at them. “Total evacuation means you, too! I don’t want to see your faces anywhere except in an escape pod!”_
> 
> _Zeb waited to see that the technicians and pilots and other bridge staff all made a run for the door; only then did he squeeze Sasha’s hand and pull him from his spot. “Yer comin’ with me.”_
> 
> _“I’m right behind you,” Sasha promised and Zeb let go._
> 
> _His second great mistake was believing Sasha. Trusting his husband to be right behind him, Zeb ran at full speed through the **Shadow** , skidding into an escape pod._
> 
> _He turned around to help Sasha in, but Sasha just stood there, outside the pod. He gave Zeb a quick, sorrowful nod and slammed the door shut, sealing it. The pod launched._
> 
> _He screamed in despair, throwing himself at the door as if he could drive the pod back with sheer strength._
> 
> _There was nothing Zeb could do. Sasha had tricked him._
> 
> _At his waist, his comlink crackled to life. “Zeb? Zeb, ni ashkerra? Can you hear me?”_
> 
> _“Where the kriff are you going, Sasha?”_
> 
> _“You know where I’m going.”_
> 
> _Zeb did know, unfortunately. He pictured Sasha standing proud on the bridge, the way he’d begun the journey. “Why are you doing this to me? All you had to do was get in the pod with me. Or tell me you were going to stay so I could stay, too.”_
> 
> _“Zeb, think about it. This ship is falling apart faster than the escape pods can launch. Someone has to stay behind and reboot the shields so that it doesn’t break up before everyone makes it to safety. And I’d much rather be here, drawing the Destroyers’ fire, than allow them to pick you off one by one as you wait for rescue.” Sasha didn’t need to outright say anything about Zeb not needing to die with him, a lowly ex-Imperial, for Zeb to hear it loud and clear._
> 
> _He refused to listen. “Sasha, there are more pods. You’ve held it together long enough. Leave now.”_
> 
> _Sasha sounded supremely ashamed. “I’m sorry, my love. You know I can’t do that. This is my duty.”_
> 
> _“ **Kriff** duty! What about me?” Zeb cried, desperate and terrified. “Sasha, you can’t do this to me. You owe me better than this. What about our **vows**? You promised you’d come back to Lira San when this was over!”_
> 
> _“I’m sorry, Garazeb,” Sasha said again, his name a horrifyingly beautiful thing in his lover’s mouth. “I know I’m breaking my word to you, but I have a responsibility for this mission’s failure. I **have** to save as many people as I can, including you.”_
> 
> _“No,” Zeb said quietly. “I can’t live without you.”_
> 
> _“You can,” said Sasha, softly but confidently. “You’re the strongest being I know. You’ve survived so much already; I know you can survive this, too. Please try to move on, Garazeb. Have a life without me. If you love me, you’ll do that.”_
> 
> _Zeb growled. “Don’t guilt trip me, Alexsandr Kallus. **You’re** in the wrong here.”_
> 
> _“Perhaps.”_
> 
> _“Sasha…” Zeb said, dropping the anger and speaking in an almost kittish mewl. “Sasha, please. I need you.”_
> 
> _“No, you don’t. I needed you, but you’re stronger without me.”_
> 
> _“I’m not and you know it.”_
> 
> _Sasha chuckled, a soft, miserable noise. “Zeb, it’s almost time. The last of the escape pods are gone.”_
> 
> _“ **Please**.”_
> 
> _A sigh. “I love you, Garazeb Orrelios. Thank you for saving my life and my soul. Thank you for your love and forgiveness, neither of which I deserved. Thank you for being my husband.” It sounded like Sasha was tearing up. “Be strong, ni ashkerra.”_
> 
> _The rear viewport of the escape pod was tiny, but Zeb pressed his face against it so he could see through the thick transparisteel. His comm clicked, the connection ending._
> 
> _Fear welled up inside him as he watched. The **Shadow** ’s shields flickered visibly – a sure sign of failure – and then disappeared._
> 
> _The next turbolaser blasts hit the bridge and split the **Shadow** into thirds._
> 
> _Zeb screamed as it happened, pleading with the Ashla to spare Sasha’s life, but he knew it was no use. Those turbolasers would have killed anything in the bridge, including Sasha, reducing them to nothing but slag._
> 
> _Tears streamed down his face._
> 
> _Sasha was gone and Zeb hadn’t been able to stop him. If only he’d held onto Sasha’s hand. If only he’d insisted on another recon mission first. If only he’d refused to let Sasha out of bed the day the New Republic called for his help._
> 
> _If only._
> 
> _Zeb crumpled into a ball on the floor of the escape pod, hiding his face from the galaxy, and wept._
> 
> _He barely registered it when a ship latched onto his pod and he had to be physically dragged out of it. All he knew was that he was neither safe on Lira San with Sasha nor was he on the **Ghost** with the Spectres. He wasn’t in either of his homes._
> 
> _There were too many people needing urgent care for the medics to pay much attention to one shell-shocked lasat, even if he was a captain, so Zeb was shuffled into a dark bunkroom and told to sleep it off._
> 
> _He fought for it, but sleep didn’t come. Every time he started to drift off, Zeb jerked back awake, certain he felt Sasha’s hand on his face or heard Sasha’s voice in the hallway._
> 
> _Sasha couldn’t really be gone. Zeb needed to talk to someone. Surely the **Shadow** ’s wreckage was searched for survivors. Sasha might be on another ship, safe and sound._
> 
> _Right?_
> 
> _Zeb tried not to hope, tried not to let his heart be crushed under a metric ton of duracrete when they arrived back on Chandrila and Sasha didn’t exit any of the ships._
> 
> _Sasha wasn’t there. No one had picked him up or seen his body._
> 
> _Zeb had known that was the case thanks to the turbolasers, but he’d been trying to forget that detail. He’d been trying to forget every detail; to purge them from his mind and reality if it was possible._
> 
> _It wasn’t. His Sasha, his heart, wasn’t coming back, ever. He’d committed suicide to save Zeb and the rest of the crew._
> 
> _Mon Mothma and the rest of the Council lauded Alexsandr Kallus as a hero, a shining example of bravery and redemption._
> 
> _Zeb lurked in the back of the room as they spoke about his husband during the brief memorial service. By rights, he ought to be sitting up front, but he couldn’t deal with that sort of attention. So he hid out, not even sticking around to talk to Hera and Jacen after._
> 
> _As soon as the service ended, Zeb resigned his commission for a final time and chartered a shuttle back to Lira San. Maybe being surrounded by his own kind would help him come to terms with his loss. Maybe they’d show him there were reasons to keep going._
> 
> _Maybe._

Zeb sighed and lowered the blaster. “Look,” he said. “I don’t know who you are or why you’re here, but this is your chance to get out. Karabast, I’ll even let you stop to shower first because you definitely smell like you need one.”

There was a slight twitch on one side of the man’s mouth, a gesture Zeb recognized. Sasha had been preternaturally good at controlling his face, but Zeb had learned the microexpressions that flitted by so quickly. The mouth twitch meant that Sasha was amused but not about to admit it.

“I will take you up on that,” said the man carefully. “Can, uh, can you run these clothes through the laundry while I’m in there?”

Zeb nodded without thinking about it, even as he berated himself. _Why am I being so nice? This man is **impersonating my Sasha**._

_Because he looks like Sasha. Because I can’t be cruel to someone like that. I just have to guard myself._

While the man was in the ‘fresher, Zeb sent his clothes through a quick wash-and-fluff cycle in his small laundry machine. Cautiously, without looking at the shower stall, he set the folded clothes on the edge of the sink.

He used to do that for Sasha, back on Lira San: soft and warm clothes for the day, set out while Sasha showered. And then, perhaps, Zeb would join him in the shower.

It was almost nice to take care of someone again, even if it was only setting out clothes. He missed having someone to care for and be cared for by.

Zeb flopped back down on the couch. He _had_ to quit thinking like that. At any moment the man would come back out and who knew what would happen? Maybe he’d leave like Zeb asked. Maybe he’d steal Zeb’s blaster and hold him hostage. Maybe this was an attempt at blackmail – though Zeb had no clue what he might know that would be worth blackmail.

The ‘fresher shut off. Zeb waited patiently for the man – who was definitely not Sasha – to dress and rejoin him in the main room.

Feeling much less hungover, Kallus marveled at the fresh clothes waiting for him. Zeb – or a lasat that could be his clone – had gotten the laundry done quickly. Had his Zeb liked laundry? They’d always used the Rebel base facilities, such as they were, and joked together about how poorly the machines performed.

Seemed like this Zeb, whoever he was, liked domesticity. Kallus’s heart clenched. He’d never had the chance to find out what home life with Zeb – with his _fiancé_ , a future _husband_ – would have been like, not beyond a cramped, shared cabin on the _Ghost_. It’d been a home of sorts, but not like having their own place on a planet somewhere. Not like the home he’d wanted to make with Zeb.

Maybe Zeb would have done little things like warm his clothes. Maybe it would have been Kallus doing the chores.

It didn’t matter, however, because it never happened and it never _would_ happen. Letting himself wonder only caused unnecessary pain.

Kallus stared at his face in the mirror and hated what he saw. Oh, he was fully aware that he was unkempt and wild-looking, worn and battered, but seeing Zeb again made him want to go back to his old self. The idea of disappointing Zeb was too much to bear.

He didn’t have a proper trimmer or razor, however, and he wasn’t about to dig through this Zeb’s things without permission.

 _This Zeb?_ Kallus shook his head at his continued use of the term. He was still feeling the effects of his lomin-ale binge; he was accepting that this being could be Zeb far too easily. That it could be _a_ Zeb, if not _his_ Zeb.

It made no sense. In his right mind Kallus would have gotten upset at the impersonator and walked out on him. He’d have wrestled the blaster from him and escaped the memories.

But Kallus wasn’t in his right mind anymore. That was the whole kriffing point.

He stole a little of Zeb’s toothpaste – yes, it was the same nasty-tasting stuff his lover had used back during the war – and used his finger to brush quickly, hoping it would help his hangover breath. He shook out his shaggy hair and pulled his clothes back on.

Looking in the mirror, he was still a mess, but less of one. It was the best he could do at the moment.

Time to face Zeb – or face the reality that Kallus had hallucinated this whole thing, though the bittersweet aftertaste of lasat toothpaste lingering in his mouth suggested otherwise.

Belying his nerves, Kallus palmed the door controls and stepped back into the main room.

Zeb was still there, still apparently real, still sitting on the couch staring at his own hands.

“Zeb?” Kallus asked again, to be doubly sure.

Startled, the lasat turned his head and looked at Kallus with a profound sadness, not the anger that marred his usually kind and gentle face before. “You’re not Sasha, but you look and sound like him. I could almost believe… Who are you?”

Kallus sat on the bed again, by his shoes. He spoke bluntly; he was still processing everything himself. “I’m Alexsandr Kallus. No one’s called me Sasha since I was a child. My Zeb called me Alex. And you’re Garazeb Orrelios, but you’re not _him_ , are you?”

Zeb’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m Garazeb, but that still doesn’t explain anything. How can you be Alexsandr Kallus when he’s dead? What do you mean by ‘my Zeb’?”

“I’m aware that I’m not at full mental capacity at the moment,” Kallus admitted, “but it seems to me that you and I are from differing realities. In mine, Garazeb Orrelios died during the Battle of Endor. In yours – which is where I assume we are – I died… over Coruscant, you said?”

Zeb nodded sadly, fiddling with a leather bracelet on his right wrist. “Commanding a mission to try and run the Imperials off the planet. The ship broke up and he went with it, trying to make sure everyone else got to safety.”

Kallus bit his lip. That sounded a lot more heroic than he was, but maybe… maybe in this reality, he’d been a braver, better man.

“So you’re sayin’ you really are Sasha. But you aren’t _Sasha_.”

“Right. I’m not your Sasha. I’m Alex.” And strangely, after years of retreating back into the hard mask of Kallus, he found he wanted to be Alex again. Hopeful, somewhat kind and caring Alex, who’d loved and been loved by Zeb. Alex, who’d died on Endor too. Maybe it was possible to get Alex back.

“And you’re really here.” Zeb looked up pleadingly.

Kallus wasn’t sure if he was hoping for a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. “I appear to be as real as you are.”

Zeb stood slowly, as if he weren’t sure of his actions, and approached Kallus. He held out a hand.

Kallus took it, marveling at the feel of large fingers and short velvety fur – sensations he hadn’t felt in five years. When Zeb tugged at him, he willingly fell into the lasat’s embrace.

Tears he thought were long since gone returned, to Kallus’s shame. It’d been so long since he’d been touched, much less held. Held by Zeb, at that. He leaned into Zeb’s neck, letting fur absorb his tears, drowning in the feel and sight and smell of _Zeb_. He’d dreamed of this, but never believed it was possible – at least not until after he’d died, too.

Then again, Kallus had seen Force-wielders, both Jedi and Sith, do incredible, impossible things. Perhaps the impossible wasn’t so impossible after all. Maybe the Force brought them back together.

Zeb held the man – not Sasha, but _Alex_ – while he shuddered, crying into the crook of Zeb’s neck. It was an emotion Zeb shared, but he was still too stunned at the idea of getting Sash– Alex back.

Burying his face in the man’s wet hair, he took a deep breath, nostrils filling with the spicy, musky scent he remembered so well. “Ashla,” he whispered. “Ashla, it’s you.”

“It’s me,” Alex murmured, his Coruscanti accent thicker with the tears. “And it’s really you.”

“ _Kriff_.” Zeb leaned back a little to look at him. Even with the scraggly graying beard, even with the unusually bloodshot eyes and longer hair, _it was Alexsandr kriffing Kallus_ and he was in Zeb’s arms again.

Alex stared back, the golden brown of his eyes made all the brighter by the blotchy red-stained white surrounding them.

Zeb didn’t care that Alex looked a mess. He had his husband back.

His husband was back and there was nothing Zeb wanted more than to hold him like that forever.

The kiss happened slowly, a juxtaposition to his and Sasha’s very first, frantic one during the liberation of Lothal. Zeb was determined to take his time, though, and do it properly: it was his first kiss in four years and the action carried some significant emotional weight.

Their lips touched lightly at first, soft purple against chapped pink, a hesitant test. Alex opened his mouth first and Zeb took the offered invitation. He soon discovered that yes, this Alex who stood before him, _alive_ , tasted like Sasha, too.

It wasn’t instantly perfect; there was an awkward moment where Zeb went left and Alex went right, but Zeb chalked that up to both of them being out of practice, taking the moment of struggle in stride.

One kiss became two, became many more, getting sloppier and more desperate as they went. Zeb didn’t care; all that mattered in the galaxy anymore was _Alexsandr Kallus. Here. With him._

Zeb wound his fingers in Alex’s hair, pulling just a little. Sasha had enjoyed that and it seemed Alex did, too, from the moan that escaped him. Taking that as a cue, Zeb broke the kiss and rubbed their cheeks together.

Alex leaned his head to the side, giving Zeb better access to his cheeks and neck. Happily, Zeb scented him on both sides of his face, mingling their scents in a delightfully unsubtle fashion, at least to any being with a decent nose.

Then, to his surprise, Alex nuzzled into his neck again, but this time he found a broken, ovoid scar. Alex bit down on it, nearly breaking skin.

Zeb shivered. That spot, that scar, was a lasat claiming mark, one Sasha had left behind years ago. Desire washed over him, igniting in his belly and filling him with a fire he hadn’t felt in a long time.

_Alex wants to claim me? To be my Sasha? I’ll show him claiming!_

With a lusty growl, Zeb reached down and picked Alex up. The human gasped, wrapping his legs around Zeb’s waist and arms around his neck. Zeb walked them to the bed, dropping them both atop the long-abandoned mattress.

Alex laughed, the noise making Zeb’s ears twitch; that was a sound he thought he’d never hear again.

“Zeb, I have missed you. I love you. It’s been a long five years.” The words, the tone, the inflection: all were utterly sincere. Alex sounded so much like Sasha in the moment that Zeb couldn’t contain his lonely yearning anymore.

“I love you,” Zeb repeated. _My husband. Here._ Head spinning, he kissed Alex’s forehead first, then his nose, and then his lips; something he used to do with Sasha all the time. “Four years for me, but that’s long enough.”

“Yes, long enough.” Alex sighed and let his head fall back on the bed, spreading his arms invitingly. “But here we are.”

“And this time, you listen to me if I tell you to evacuate a ship,” Zeb said sternly. _I won’t lose you again. Not now; not **ever**._

“As long as you stay away from Imperial compounds.” Alex laid a hand on Zeb’s cheek, pale fingers twining in his wine-dark beard.

“I think I can promise that,” Zeb said, voice shaky from the feel of Alex’s fingertips in his hair. “I don’t wanna see war ever again.”

“We’re in agreement there.” Alex closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Zeb understood the sentiment. “L’ashkerrir an, ni sasha.”

With a frown, he was quietly corrected. “ _Alex_. I’m Alex.”

 _Doesn’t he know what ‘sasha’ means?_ Zeb pushed the thought from his mind. Of course Alex knew. He had to.

He was identical to Sasha, had lived through the same war, had loved his own Zeb. He _had_ to have experienced the same things Zeb and Sasha had. It was impossible for him not to.

Right?

Strange as all this was – impossible and indescribable as it all was – Zeb felt restless. Indecision and inaction gnawed at him, drew his attentions away from any misgivings. _Alexsandr_ was there. _Alexsandr_ was with him, alive and whole. He was breathing, mere centimeters away, close enough to kiss again. He was lying there on the bed, waiting for Zeb to make the next move, the next touch, the next moan.

Leaning down, Zeb met Alex in that next kiss, frantic and searching and full of as much love as Zeb could muster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Used Anath_Tsurugi’s Lasana! Here’s translations:  
> Ni ashkerra – my love  
> L’ashkerrir an – I love you  
> Ni sasha – my heart


	2. Chapter 2

Alex lay on the bed, studying the ceiling once more. This time, however, Zeb lay next to him, both a little too embarrassed to look at the other.

> _It started out so simply._
> 
> _At least, it should have been simple. Zeb was back in his life and even if this was nothing more than a hangover dream, he needed to feel Zeb’s touch. Needed more than mere touch._
> 
> _And Zeb seemed to need that from him, too. Alex – because he was determined to be **Alex** once more, not **Kallus** – was more than happy to oblige._
> 
> _After that first kiss on the bed, things moved quickly. Jumpsuits slipped off, shirts and pants and socks and skivvies all tossed aside without care. More kisses happened, in increasingly private places, the **taste** of Zeb driving Alex crazy with lust. It was entirely possible that his heart would burst then and there._
> 
> _But that was when it all went wrong._
> 
> _Alex and Zeb both reached to prepare themselves at the same time. Zeb looked at him in confusion. “What are you doing?” he asked tentatively. “You top me.”_
> 
> _Alex’s head swam, trying to make sense of things through the cloud that used to be his brain. “Not usually,” he said, vaguely aware it was the wrong answer._
> 
> _“Karabast,” Zeb said. “How’d you want to do this then?”_
> 
> _Zeb’s hands on his body kept most rational thoughts from forming, but Alex managed to pick out one thread of an idea. He stammered, “I’ll_ – _I’ll top you. And then maybe we switch.”_
> 
> _“Yes, ni askherra,” Zeb agreed._
> 
> _Alex had to contort a little to position himself properly, making pain shoot up his bad legs, but it was worth it to see Zeb lying before him._
> 
> _For a few minutes, it seemed like things might work, but then Zeb started moaning gentle words of love and care and adoration._
> 
> _That… wasn’t what Zeb did, usually. He wasn’t crude, but he wasn’t that soft, either. Where was **this** Zeb coming from?_
> 
> _Alex hadn’t meant to question anything out loud, but it slipped out anyway. Ashamed, he stuttered in his efforts, flagging, and Zeb stopped talking. Both men looked at each other – and then at Zeb as his body very obviously showed how turned off he’d become._
> 
> _For all that Alex wanted Zeb, it was clear things weren’t working out for either of them._

After that mortifying display, neither man could bring himself to look at the other. Alex wasn’t sure what to say.

Zeb figured something out. “Yer still hungover,” he reasoned. “And I’m still in shock that yer here. No wonder…”

That made sense, at least. “No wonder,” Alex agreed, feeling a little relief. It was good to have a believable reason why sex hadn’t worked out. He hadn’t thought he’d be that out of practice after five years, but his brain wasn’t all there. His body was still recovering from the night before. That was a good excuse for his failure to please Zeb.

There would, hopefully, be many chances for Alex to make it up to him.

Zeb sat up and that was the signal to move on. They both slunk around the room, collecting clothing and putting it on without making eye contact.

Alex took a second after he was dressed to peek out the window. Shocked, he realized Zeb had the same view from his apartment as Alex had from his.

“Is this Sakiya? Kaehaxa?” he asked. Sakiya had been the perfect planet for Alex to run to as soon as he’d healed after Endor and Kaehaxa was its busiest city, all the better for disappearing into. 

Lots of things disappeared in Hutt Space.

Zeb came up behind him and raised the window cover. “Yeah. I… couldn’t stand to stay on Lira San after… After. This seemed like the drainage ditch of the galaxy, so I moved here to be alone.”

“And the other Spectres?” Alex asked. He’d lost track of them, on purpose, and as far as he was aware, none of them had ever made the effort to find him.

“Sabine is on Mandalore, Ezra’s helping Skywalker and Antilles research the Jedi, and Hera’s not about to bring Jacen to Hutt Space.”

Warmth spread across Alex’s shoulders; Zeb had placed his arm around him, as if in a side hug.

“But you’re here now,” Zeb said. “If you want, we can go back to Lira San.”

 _Lira San. Jacen._ Zeb acted as if Alex knew those names, but he didn’t. The first sounded like it must be a planet, the second… a new lover for Hera? Alex had no idea. “Lira San?” he asked.

“Yeah, Lira–” Zeb broke off suddenly. “Endor. You said I died at Endor for you.”

Alex swallowed, trying not to recall the feel of Zeb’s chest, still without breath or heartbeat. “Yes.”

“Then I never showed you Lira San.” There was a bit of confusion in Zeb’s voice. Dropping the window shade, he turned Alex to face him. “You didn’t– I mean– I wouldn’t have– Not yet.”

“Lira San?” Alex repeated, trying not to be frustrated. “Zeb, just tell me what it is.”

Marvel entered Zeb’s voice. His eyes widened and a smile formed, excitement spreading across his face. “D’you remember, back when you were still ISB, chasing the _Ghost_ into an imploded star cluster?”

Alex vividly recalled the moment the _Ghost_ disappeared into the maelstrom and he’d thought he had finally seen the end of them. At the time, that was a triumphant thought. Since becoming a Rebel, though, it was horrifying. “I prefer not to think about that,” he said with a little shudder.

“Neither did Sasha. But on the other side of that cluster is a small planet named Lira San. It’s the true homeworld of my people and is full of lasat living their lives peacefully.” Zeb bent a little to look Alex in the eyes. “You may have been part of the destruction of Lasan, and it’s most definitely gone, but you didn’t wipe us out. We’re still out there, thriving.”

 _It wasn’t a total genocide_ , Alex realized. _But…_ “It was still a massacre. It was still your home planet. I still participated in that,” he said quietly, the guilt welling up inside him yet again.

Zeb squeezed his shoulders. “You did. But you’re better’n that now.”

Something else occurred to Alex. “Wait. You knew about this planet when we were trapped on Bahryn. That was barely a couple of weeks after I chased you into the cluster.”

Zeb nodded. “To be honest, I might not’ve been so nice to you there if I hadn’t known,” he admitted. “It made it easier to accept your apologies.”

Alex gave Zeb a dubious look. “I didn’t _apologize_ , not then. I tried to explain and justify myself to you. That’s hardly the same.”

“It was as close to an apology as you were going to come back then,” Zeb reasoned. “I took it as one because I could.”

Alex found himself fighting a smile. _That_ was the Zeb he knew, big-hearted behind all logic when it came to people he loved – and for some reason, he counted Alex amongst those people. It’d been something that baffled him back during the war, leaving Alex terrified that at any moment, Zeb would come to his senses and leave him. Until the moment Zeb had proposed, Alex had been sure it would all end when the war was over, that they’d go their separate ways despite Alex’s desire for it to go on forever.

Of course, they’d been forcibly separated anyway: Zeb to death, Alex to drink. But a second chance had presented itself and Alex intended to take it without questioning how or why.

“Take me to Lira San,” Alex had said, almost immediately, and Zeb couldn’t think of anything he’d rather do. The point of running away had been to escape the lonely house on Lira San, but if he wasn’t going to be alone anymore, Zeb wanted to go back. Wanted to live a happy life with Alex.

Wanted his old life back.

Neither of them had any real reason to stay on Sakiya anymore, so they prepared to leave right away. The only thing tying Zeb to the planet was the boring, repetitive factory job he’d worked just to support himself and that was resigned easily, with a colorfully-worded comm message. While he waited, Alex trimmed his beard back into something resembling his old self.

That taken care of, they were free and eager to leave.

Together, they packed up Zeb’s few belongings and took a shuttle to Nar Shaddaa. While Zeb booked them passage on a trader’s ship to Batuu, Alex snuck off to a barber to finish his transformation. He emerged looking more like, well, _Sasha_. The silver was still there, but it looked dignified in his carefully groomed mutton chops rather than making Alex seem rough and aged.

It was all Zeb could do not to drag Alex into their cabin during one of the long hyperspace jumps and attempt to ravish him all over again. He restrained himself, thinking of the house he’d left behind on Lira San and never sold. Where they got there – when they got _home_ – then maybe they’d break in the bed again. The idea of waiting never diminished his adoration of Alex; if anything, his longing only grew.

They’d arrived on Batuu in a whirlwind of excitement, but did their best to hide that feeling; Black Spire Outpost wasn’t known for being friendly toward outsiders and there was no need to make themselves easy marks.

They stopped at the cantina to eat and find someone willing to brave the maelstrom to Lira San. It was a difficult proposition, as most pilots were rightfully worried about losing their ships to such a cosmic distortion. Zeb knew that Hondo Ohnaka had a ‘transport’ business on Batuu that they could have contracted, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the former pirate to know about Alex. Hondo didn’t exactly have a reputation for keeping his mouth shut and Zeb didn’t think he was ready for people – like Hera and the other Spectres – to hear about Alex yet.

At least not until Alex was settled in. And maybe after they figured out _how_ Alex came to this galaxy.

Thankfully, since Hera had mapped the safe path through the star cluster and gifted that information to Zeb, they were able to find a trader willing to brave the maelstrom in exchange for the chance to buy some rare lasat-made goods and art that would fetch a pretty credit.

With twelve hours’ worth of free time before their ship left, they split up for a bit. Alex went in search of human comforts he might not be able to find on Lira San, while Zeb…

Well, Zeb had a special project. It didn’t take too many supplies: some thin, supple leather straps, some of the wrap from his bo-rifle taken from his own bracelet, and a little bit of his hair. In the privacy of the room they rented for the night, he carefully braided everything together.

When he finished, he compared his work to the bracelet on his wrist. They were nearly identical, except that Zeb’s had golden strands worked into it rather than dark purple beard hair.

It was a lasat marriage band, made by spouses for each other and exchanged during the wedding – at least, that had been the tradition on Lasan and it was the tradition Zeb and Sasha had followed. The bands were worn on the left wrist, only moving to the right in the event of death, as Zeb had done after Sasha’s.

Traditionally, the bracelets were just leather and hair, but back on Hoth, when Zeb and Sasha had pledged themselves, leather was in short supply. Instead, they’d cut straps off the sturdy ribbon Zeb wrapped his bo-rifle in and worn those instead. Upon moving to Lira San, they’d made more permanent bracelets, but kept the ribbon as a symbol of their early marriage.

They hadn’t know it would symbolize the bulk of their marriage.

Alex wasn’t wearing a bracelet. Zeb assumed he didn’t know that lasat wore theirs after being widowed, or that he’d lost it along the way somewhere. Making him a replacement was easy enough.

Zeb planned to present it to him the next day, when they arrived at their home. He wanted to let Alex know he was welcome to be an integral part of Zeb’s life and Zeb couldn’t think of a better way to achieve that than by replacing the bracelet that was lost.

Eagerly, Zeb awaited his chance. Not only would he get to tie the bracelet onto Alex’s wrist, but he’d move his own back to his left arm and he’d get to show Alex the home he would have built with his Zeb.

It would be the start of the life both of them should have had all along.

Lira San was stunning. Alex had thought nothing could be as awe-inspiring as the hyperspace trip through the star cluster, but then they’d landed in the Lira San capital and he realized how wrong he’d been.

The buildings were supported by bright orange wooden beams, most of which were intricately carved into decorative pieces. Color was everywhere, from window and door coverings to the flowers and ivies climbing the walls. The signs and overhangs in the large market they bought food from had white designs painted on or woven in, contrasting with the vivid background colors. Even the lasat were colorful: the clothing, loose and flowing, yes, but also in fur color. Alex saw brown and gray lasat, yellow and blue eyes, in addition to Zeb’s purple and green. 

Alex hadn’t experienced anything so dream-like except… well, except waking up and seeing Zeb there. But as for places? Lira San was so ethereal that even as their cab left town and drove through a forest of incredibly tall, thick-trunked orange trees with red and yellow leaves, Alex couldn’t stop looking around. None of it seemed real. No place could actually be so beautiful.

He was so entranced with the scenery that he barely noticed when their cab stopped in front of a house close to an hour later.

“This is it,” Zeb said, sounding a little nervous.

Alex studied the house. It was obvious no one had lived there in a while, doors and windows shuttered and the surrounding land in desperate need of taming – assuming lasat kept yards like most people on Outer-Core and Mid-Rim planets.

The house itself was larger than he’d expected in every way: taller than human standards, though it was only one story, and sprawling. It was much too big for just two people. He wanted to ask Zeb about it, but Alex figured he knew the answer. Zeb and his Sasha had planned on having a family. It was something Alex’s Zeb had mentioned from time to time – lasat traditionally had large families. Childless couples of any gender combination were rare and to be pitied.

He wondered if he and Zeb would have lived in a similar house if they’d had the chance to.

Together, Alex and Zeb unloaded the little luggage they had, watched the cab drive off, and Alex waited for Zeb to lead the way into the house.

Zeb stopped on the porch and started digging in one of his bags, presumably for a keycard. Alex took the chance to look back at the view from the porch.

He assumed there were neighbors, but no other houses were in sight through the trees of varying size and color. The chirping of birds filled the air, which smelled clean and just a little moist, as if there were a lake nearby.

Lira San, from what he’d seen, was about as far as one could get from Coruscant while still being pleasant. As far as one could get from Imperial ships and Rebel bases, as well.

Alex could get used to that idea. The fewer reminders of the past, the better.

“Uh, Alex?” asked Zeb, this time _definitely_ sounding nervous.

Alex turned back, curious.

Zeb held out a small woven leather band. “I noticed yours must have fallen off, so I made you a new one.”

“Um.” Alex frowned, but took the band from Zeb. Vaguely, he registered that it looked like the bracelet Zeb wore and from the way Zeb was treating it, the band symbolized something important.

Alex didn’t know what, however. He ran through his options: he could lie and pretend he knew what Zeb wanted or he could be honest.

As much as he was ashamed to admit ignorance, the choice was obvious.

“Zeb, I, um,” he stammered. “Zeb, I don’t know what this is.”

He watched as Zeb’s face fell into some expression caught between confusion and heartbreak, making Alex’s heart twist, too. “You don’t know what it is? Didn’t you– Weren’t you– Weren’t you married?”

Involuntarily, Alex’s hand closed around the bracelet as he realized exactly what it signified. “Zeb, I…” He spoke softly, trying – and failing – not to remember Endor. Staring at the bracelet on Zeb’s wrist, he confessed, “My Zeb and I, we weren’t married. He proposed right before he died, while we were preparing to fight. We didn’t even have a chance to tell anyone about the engagement before he was gone. After, it was easier to keep it to myself, so no one ever knew.”

A sharp intake of breath brought Alex’s attention back to Zeb’s face. The lasat looked horrified. “You didn’t… On Hoth, you didn’t pledge anything? Didn’t promise yourselves to each other?”

Alex laughed hollowly. “I was too busy trying to stay warm to do much more than survive. Zeb was too busy trying to _keep_ me warm. We barely even slept together – except for heat sharing – that whole time. Zeb might have thought about it, but he never said anything. I was too caught up in my memories of Bahryn and the hypothermia to notice anything different with him.”

They stared at each other and Alex felt Zeb was coming to the same realization he was: that no matter how they physically resembled each other’s lost loves, they were completely different people. Sighing, Alex guessed that must have also been the reason sex hadn’t worked the day before. They’d been each trying to make love to someone that wasn’t there.

He couldn’t wear the bracelet knowing that, not in good conscience.

Alex offered the band back to Zeb. “I’m not your Sasha,” he said, trying to be gentle, trying not to let his own grief overwhelm him. “I can’t accept this from you. I’m not the person you want me to be. I don’t want you to make the mistake of thinking I’m him only to be disappointed.”

The look on Zeb’s face said it was too late for that last sentiment. Zeb reached over and closed Alex’s fist around the bracelet. “I made it for you,” he said, managing to keep the most obvious heartache from his voice. “Keep it. Someday you may wanna wear it.”

“I followed you here thinking you were my Zeb, somehow still alive,” Alex admitted. “But you’re not. You’re your own person with a different history and different experiences. And I think you thought the same about myself and Sasha. I understand it if you regret bringing me here. I can always leave if you were rather me not be around.”

Zeb blinked, those big green eyes full of emotion. “Alex… you might not be Sasha, but you’re close as I’m ever gonna get again. I can’t let you go.” He scratched the back of his head, eyes squeezed shut. “‘Nless you _wanna_ go.”

Alex averted his eyes as he thought. He understood what Zeb meant: this might not be the Zeb he knew, but he didn’t want to give up on what appeared to be a second chance at the life he might have had. 

“So we both realize the other isn’t our dead lover – or dead husband, in your case,” Alex said, just to be sure. “But we’re both willing to stick this out and see where it goes?”

Zeb bit his lip, quiet for a moment. “Yes,” he said finally. “I want that.”

“Good,” Alex said, feeling relieved. “I want that too.”

Zeb opened the door to the house. “Let me show you the home you never had, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasana translation:  
> Ni ashkerra – my love


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has brief descriptions of bodily harm and also describes one of the deaths. Stop after the second image if you would like to avoid reading that.

For the most part, Sasha had been a terrible cook, Zeb recalled as he stood in the kitchen, looking out the front windows into the nighttime. But Sasha had also been a diligent and motivated student and taught himself how to cook a few of Zeb’s favorite breakfasts, finally mastering the Lasan recipes a week – only a _week_ – before they left on that last mission.

Zeb had skipped breakfast for most of the last four years. The meal was just so bound up with memories of Sasha – laughing, cooking, messy, _trying for Zeb’s sake_ – that thinking about it hurt far worse than a growling stomach.

He was going to cook breakfast _that day_ , however.

Alex had fallen asleep early the night before, tired from their travels. He’d made noises like he’d had a few nightmares, but otherwise he’d slept soundly in one of the guest rooms while Zeb puttered around the house, stressing.

He’d tried to sleep, honest he had, but there was no way Zeb could sleep alone in _that_ bed without Sasha. Even entering the room was rough, knowing Alex was one room over. So instead, Zeb spent the night cleaning, quietly scrubbing away dust and grime that had built up over the last few years of neglect.

The kitchen sparkled once more, ready to be used. The chrono on the wall showed that it was nearing 0515, the time Sasha rose every day out of habit – except on those days Zeb talked him into returning to bed for lazy snuggles and not-so-lazy sex.

Zeb had no reason to assume that Alex kept a different schedule from Sasha, which meant he’d be waking soon. It was a sentimental move, but Zeb wanted to greet him with food; anything he could do to ease Alex through this transition. Anything he could do to make Alex more comfortable and more willing to stay.

It hurt to be the one cooking breakfast when that had always been Sasha’s purview, but Zeb could ignore the old familiar pain. He was well-practiced at it these days.

Hoping Alex would like Sasha’s favorite breakfast, he boiled some crushed grain meal, enough for them both, stirring it with nerf butter until it thickened. While the meal cooked, he blended some meiloorun with cream to make a topping for the hot grain meal and scrambled some local eggs. It was a relatively simple breakfast, the fruit topping the only indulgence, which fit Sasha well; free from the ‘eat what you can get when you can get it’ attitude of the Rebellion, Sasha had kept to a regimented diet and exercise plan.

Zeb smiled softly. The man he loved had been such a creature of habit, but just as soon as Zeb would think he had Sasha figured out, the human would come out of nowhere and surprise him with a new facet of his personality. Living with Sasha constantly revealed new sides of his husband and Zeb hoped Alex would be the same way. He could happily learn something new about Alex every day for the rest of their – hopefully long – lives.

Through the kitchen window, the night was starting to bleed away as pre-dawn light outlined the trees that dotted their lot. Right on cue, just as Zeb could make out the color of the bark, the floor creaked as Alex left the guest room.

“Good morning,” Zeb said. Carefully, he placed Alex’s breakfast on a large plate and turned to hand it to him. When he saw Alex, though, he faltered.

Alex had apparently slept with no shirt. He stood there, showing off a chest with a dense coating of freckles, thick golden hair, and far, _far_ too many scars. He wore some loose linen pants, but they were unwrinkled, suggesting he hadn’t slept in them, either.

It wasn’t like Zeb didn’t know what Alex looked like naked, not after that first abortive attempt at sex, but he hadn’t taken the time to truly _look_ or to compare him to Sasha. He’d just taken it all in stride, assuming Alex _was_ Sasha, somehow. 

Now that they were there, on Lira San, _in **their** house_, there was something incredibly intimate about seeing Alex fresh from bed, still half-asleep with tousled hair, and Zeb didn’t know what to do with it.

He must have stared too long because Alex frowned and began combing his hair with his fingers. “I’m sorry, I must look a mess,” he apologized.

“No, you’re fine,” Zeb said quickly, checking that nothing had slid off the plate while he’d been distracted. “It’s just…”

“Sasha,” Alex guessed, a sympathetic look on his face. He crossed his arms as if to cover himself.

It was so much like the way Sasha stood when he was trying to hide broken ribs from Zeb that another wave of emotion passed through Zeb.

 _Yeah, Sasha. But you, too, Alex._ Zeb couldn’t say that out loud, however. “Yeah,” he said instead, handing over the plate.

Alex took it gratefully, looking the food over. He frowned a little, surprising Zeb at first.

The surprise didn’t last long as it hit Zeb that lasat cuisine would be unfamiliar to Alex, having never lived on a lasat world nor with his Zeb outside of war. He explained, “Uh, this is ufali. It was Sasha’s favorite, but it’s okay if you don’t like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” Alex said, but it seemed more of a knee-jerk reaction than a genuine hope. His expression softened, though, when he leaned over the plate and smelled the hot fruit and grain.

Pulling out a chair, Alex sat at the table – in _Sasha’s_ seat.

Zeb knew it shouldn’t bother him. If he wanted Alex to be a part of his life, then he had to accept that Alex was going to take over many of Sasha’s old places, physically and emotionally. Still, it didn’t stop the slight noise of distress that escaped his throat.

Alex looked up, freezing immediately where he was. “I did something wrong.” It was a statement, not a question for Zeb to answer.

Zeb answered anyway. “No,” he said. “That’s just Sasha’s chair and–”

“And I shouldn’t sit here.” Alex stood and moved his place to the next chair over.

“–And it caught me off-guard that you chose that seat without me telling you,” Zeb said, gently correcting Alex’s worries. “Sit where you want. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll stay here,” Alex said, eying Sasha’s chair warily.

Alex’s new seat was diagonal from where Zeb usually sat, but Zeb didn’t take his normal seat; he sat across from Alex instead. _New Alexsandr, new Garazeb_ , he reasoned.

“Did you get any sleep?” Alex asked. “My Zeb would never be awake this early without a compelling reason.”

“Lack of sleep is compelling.” Zeb said with a shrug. He’d confess to staying up, but Alex didn’t have to know why. Didn’t have to know it was too hard to sleep in an empty bed, too hard to stay still knowing Alex was one room over. “I got this place pretty clean instead.”

Alex looked around. “You did a good job. I must have been very deep asleep if you didn’t wake me up.”

“I tried to be quiet,” Zeb said. “Yesterday was a long day and you needed rest. Really, we’ve had two long days since–”

“Since waking up to see you,” Alex finished, the exact words Zeb had been thinking. The human bent down and tasted his food, nodding in satisfaction. “This is quite good. I shouldn’t be surprised; my Zeb was skilled at making something delicious out of the scraps the Rebellion provided.”

Zeb grinned despite himself. “I’m not _that_ good,” he said. “But I can handle the basics.”

“Basics being the things you and Sasha liked best?”

Unable to stop his grin from turning sad, Zeb said, “Yeah. The important things.”

Though he surely must have noticed, Alex kindly didn’t say anything about Zeb’s change in expression. “If breakfast is any indication, then Sasha and I have the same palate. You’re also just as skilled as my Zeb was.”

Zeb drummed his fingers on the table, unsure how to respond. They ate in silence for a minute before Zeb spoke up again, cautious and uncertain. “So, his clothes and things are in the basement. I’ll get them out for you, if you like. If that wouldn’t be too weird.”

“It makes practical sense,” Alex replied after a few seconds. “As long as it isn’t a problem for you.”

Zeb shook his head. “Nah. Wouldn’t have offered if I minded.”

 _I say that now_ , he thought, _but what will I think when I see Sasha standing there again?_

They ate in silence for a few more minutes, Zeb frantically trying to think of something to say to keep the situation from getting any more awkward.

Alex figured out what to ask first. “So what did you and Sasha do while you were here? How did you spend your days?”

Zeb set down his spoon. “Well, at first, we did nothing. Spent our days in bed or watchin’ holos or somethin’. There’s a path – or there was – through the woods we used to walk. Just enjoyin’ the feel of peacetime, y’know?”

_No, you idiot, Alex doesn’t know. He never had peacetime with his Zeb._

Alex nodded contemplatively anyway. “Makes sense. Most of the Rebels I knew did that when they first escaped the war.”

The look in Alex’s eyes clearly said he wasn’t among those who let themselves relax.

Zeb thought for a few minutes, trying to decide how much he wanted to tell Alex. In the time it took him to decide that full honesty was best, Alex nearly finished his breakfast.

“We also sparred a lot,” Zeb said.

Alex sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. “That makes me miss my bo-rifle.”

It occurred to Zeb that since Alex was never married to his Zeb, he’d never been gifted a new bo-rifle from Hera for the wedding. “You hadta leave yours with the Imperials, huh?” he asked gently.

“No,” Alex said, looking at him quizzically. “I left mine with Zeb while I went back to the Imperials to be Fulcrum. He kept it safe for me until after they rescued me from Thrawn.”

Zeb frowned. That was not how things went for him and Sasha. “You saw your Zeb before becoming Fulcrum?”

“Of course,” Alex said, still sounding confused. “The whole time the Rebels held me in that cell after Bahryn.”

“Bahryn? But Sasha...” Zeb’s frown deepened. “Sasha was picked up by a trader and returned to the Empire. What happened to you?”

Alex looked away, flexing his fingers. “There was no trader,” he said quietly. “I would have died if the Spectres hadn’t come back for me.”

Zeb gulped, finding he’d lost his appetite. “We went back, too, but the transponder signal was gone and then the next thing I hear is months later, when Sasha helped some pilots escape Skystrike. Soon after that, he helped Kanan an’ Ezra and told them he was Fulcrum.”

With a quick shake of his head, Alex said, “That’s not how it went for me. Zeb found me in the snow, almost dead, and for some reason nursed me back to health. I stayed in a Rebellion prison cell until I agreed to be Fulcrum.” He looked up suddenly, eyes wide. “Not coerced into it. It was suggested to me by someone else and I took the opportunity. Don’t think you forced me into anything.”

There was obviously more to Alex’s story, but Zeb didn’t want to push the matter. “I still have Sasha’s bo-rifle,” he said, nodding towards the hall closet. “Both of ours, actually. Over there.”

Alex turned to follow Zeb’s gaze. “In the closet?”

“Yeah.” Zeb bit his lip, heart clenching at the thought of seeing the bo-rifles again.

Alex gave Zeb a curious look. “You left your bo-rifle behind when you left for Hutt Space?”

“I wanted to hide,” Zeb said. “Lasat already stand out, but a lasat with a bo-rifle? There ain’t that many of us left. And even if I wasn’t identified, they fetch a good price on the black market and I didn’t want to lose it forever. And I didn’t have anyone to spar with, so why did I need a bo-rifle? A blaster would be just as good.”

“That sounds like a speech you’ve practiced,” Alex said, still staring at Zeb.

Zeb crumpled under his scrutiny. “I meant all that,” he protested.

“But?”

His resolve completely dissolved beneath Alex’s golden gaze. It was time to face the real reason he left the bo-rifles behind. “But… but I failed in my vow to keep Sasha safe, just like I failed to keep Lasan safe. I’m not worthy to wield a bo-rifle anymore.”

Sadness washed over Alex’s face. “Zeb, if I could speak for Sasha–”

“You can’t,” snapped Zeb. He stood quickly, gathering the breakfast plates and scraping the last bits of food into the refuse bin. “You’re not him.”

He heard the chair scoot back as Alex stood, but Zeb refused to turn around until his fur smoothed down again and he wasn’t so obviously mad.

“I simply meant that if my Zeb had survived me,” Alex said, quietly but with resolve, “I would have wanted him to keep using his bo-rifle. I know what it meant to him and I imagine it means the same to you.”

Zeb quickly scrubbed plates, taking his irritation out on them rather than respond to Alex.

_How dare he speak for Sasha? How dare he be **right**?_

He’d said the wrong thing, Alex recognized. He shouldn’t have brought up Sasha, no matter how certain he was that the other version of himself would have wanted Zeb to keep his bo-rifle.

He contemplated retreating to the bedroom, but there was no version of Alexsandr Kallus that backed down that easily. 

While he waited for Zeb to finish the dishes, Alex wandered over to a holoimage projector sitting on the low table between the couch and the fireplace. He flipped through the images.

There was the _Ghost_ crew, some with Kanan, some with Sasha, and some with a young boy Alex didn’t recognize. The group photos didn’t surprise Alex, but there were also lots of images of only Zeb and Sasha. Binding their hands together with ribbons and bracelets; that must have been the Hoth wedding. Sasha laughing, which just reminded Alex he hadn’t had anything to laugh about in a very long time, not since their disastrous misadventure in Kaehaxa. And, most painfully, a holo image of Zeb and Sasha whispering to each other, the background clearly showing that the image had been taken on Endor, after the battle.

Taken after he’d lost his Zeb.

Alex studied the image, rotating it a few times to see all the angles. _Would we have taken a holo like this if Zeb hadn’t tripped that mine? Would we have been this happy?_

It was a silly question. Of _course_ they would have been that happy; they were going to be married that night. It would have been the best night of Alex’s life, not the worst; better than escaping from the Empire, better than surviving the first Death Star.

“Believe it or not, Jacen took that,” Zeb said, behind Alex. “He stole a holo imager from someone and took a bunch of images. Most of them were blurry or of people’s feet, but he got that one just right.”

Recognizing Zeb’s words as a peace offering, Alex set the projector down, though his eyes never left it. The love evident in the image, taken so tenderly, was vastly different from Alex’s memories of Endor. It was hard to stomach the white-hot agony that shot through him, but he managed. Hoping he wasn’t pressing more buttons, he asked, “Who’s Jacen?”

“Hera an’ Kanan’s kit.” There was surprise in Zeb’s voice. “Hera wasn’t– wasn’t pregnant when Kanan died?”

_Ah, a child. The child in the holoimages, of course. And of course Hera wouldn’t bring herself or a half-twi’lek child into Hutt Space to find Zeb; the danger to twi’leks there is too high._

Alex shook his head, sighing. “No. There was no child.” Just another thing his galaxy lacked, it seemed. Unable to keep the heartbreak from his voice, he said, “It’s a lovely image. I just wish we’d gotten the chance to take one like it.”

Zeb sat on the couch next to him. “Tell me what happened. You’ve said your Zeb died on Endor, but not how.”

“You sure you want to know?” Alex asked carefully. _I’m not sure I’m ready to hear – in detail – how Sasha died. Can Zeb be ready this soon?_

Zeb took a moment to answer. “Yeah, I do,” he said finally. “Get it off your chest.”

“It was ugly and horrific and if you change your mind, I’ll stop. I’ll understand. You don’t _need_ to listen to this. Not for me, not for my Zeb, not for anyone.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Zeb frowned. “If you don’t wanna tell me–”

“A mine,” Alex interrupted. If he was going to tell the story, he wanted it done quickly. “It was a stupid mine, buried outside one of the Imperial bunkers we were trying to take. One second, our whole company was there and the next, half of us weren’t.”

“And he…?”

“He was in the other half. He was _my_ other half and I lost him before I even knew what had happened. That karking mine almost took me, too, but I suppose I couldn’t be that lucky,” Alex said bitterly. “Medics saved me, but they didn’t even try to help him. He was gone before they got there, but they said he’d never have survived his wounds even if the medics had been quicker.”

_Or at least that’s what they told me in the medical tent, while I prayed to the Ashla that Zeb would walk in, that it had all been a nightmare._

Meanwhile, everyone else on Endor had been celebrating. If the sight of Zeb, dead, hadn’t done the trick, if watching the medics carve away dead and damaged flesh from Alex’s body hadn’t done it, the cheers and music had certainly made Alex sick to his stomach.

Just as it had on Endor, Alex’s stomach lurched at the memories. Involuntarily, he ran a hand up his left arm, feeling the never-ending scars under his fingers. He wished he’d stopped to put on a shirt before leaving the bedroom; the scars made him self-conscious in front of this Zeb.

Zeb had listened quietly while Alex spoke, watching him rub his arm. Thankfully, Zeb didn’t comment on the scars, just asked a clarifying question. “That’s why you limp a little?” he asked tentatively. “I wondered. Can you still spar?”

“I don’t know,” Alex admitted, ashamed. “Other than a couple of bar brawls, I’ve not fought since then. Both our bo-rifles were destroyed in the blast, so I didn’t have one to work with, and I left the Rebellion as soon as I could after he died.”

“Right. We should do that,” Zeb said. “We’re both out of practice.”

 _He wants to see if I can still fight,_ Alex thought, fighting to keep his face neutral and not sour. _Or if I’m too broken for that. Just another way I can’t live up to Sasha._

“Fine,” Alex said. “If you’re sure you want to use your bo-rifle again?”

Zeb was quiet for a minute, as if Alex had slapped him. When he spoke, it was slowly and contemplatively. “I think you were right. Sasha would have wanted me to. I just haven’t wanted to face wielding one without him at my side.”

Alex nodded. “I understand,” he said simply. _I never thought I’d touch a bo-rifle again, either, not without Zeb at my side._

Zeb went to the hall closet and pulled out two bo-rifles. One was familiar: the same bo-rifle wrapped with dirty off-white straps that Zeb had always used.

The other was a stranger. It was sleek and polished, modified similarly to Alex’s old bo-rifle, but it had purple wraps where his hands would go.

Zeb handed it to him and Alex looked it over, testing some of the more obvious modifications. It was similar enough to his last one, although this one was a burnished bronze under the purple straps.

He hadn’t held a bo-rifle since Endor, hadn’t thought he ever would again; the weight in his hands felt _right_ in a way a blaster never could. He flipped it over, running his hand along the cool metal until his fingertips hit a rough patch.

Alex looked closer. There was a small figure etched in the bo-rifle, in the middle between the handholds. It looked almost like a child’s toy holding… a spear?

It would have been important to Sasha if he went to the effort of adding the design to his bo-rifle. Alex wanted to ask, but he didn’t want to overstep again.

“What?” Zeb asked.

Alex glanced back up to find Zeb staring at him. He hadn’t been as subtle as he thought. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“You’ve got a question. Ask what you wanna ask.”

After a second of internal debate, Alex pointed at the etching. “What’s this?”

“Oh, that’s the Warrior,” Zeb said, as if Alex ought to know what that meant.

“The Warrior.” Alex leveled his gaze at Zeb. “What’s the Warrior?”

“You are.” Zeb suddenly looked up after he spoke, startled. “Wait. You never heard that story. I didn’t tell you _how_ we found Lira San.”

“You mean what possessed you to enter that star cluster in the first place? I’m sure I’d remember if you had,” Alex said. “Tell it to me?”

Zeb leaned back against the wall, a far-away look in his eyes. “There was a prophecy back on Lasan. See, we thought Lira San was a myth, but the prophecy said that a Fool, a Warrior, and a Child would lead the way to the planet.”

“So you were the Warrior. Did that make Ezra the Child and… I don’t know, Kanan the Fool?”

That got a chuckle out of Zeb. “No, it was more complicated than that. I think the Fool was Hondo Ohnaka, who brought the lasat refugees to us to keep them safe from the Empire. But the Warrior that pursued the Child was Sasha – is _you_ , I suppose, since this happened in your universe as well. And I am the Child of Lasan, who led the way and saved the Warrior.” Zeb presented his bo-rifle, showing an etching of his own on the stock.

Alex scoffed. “Me? A part of a Lasan prophecy? As something honorable like a Warrior, not a destroyer? Surely that’s a mistake.”

“No mistake. Sasha was the main reason we entered the maze to get to Lira San and then later, on Bahryn, we both saved each other.” Zeb looked at his bo-rifle lovingly. “We were able to use my bo-rifle to guide the _Ghost_ safely through.”

Alex frowned. That made no sense, but then again, he _had_ watched lightning flicker around the _Ghost_ and turbolaser blasts be deflected as easily as if they’d been from a blaster.

Zeb grinned softly. “You had to be there, I guess. But Sasha was – and you _are_ – the Warrior, just like I’m the Child, tied together by the Ashla. Eventually we both embraced the roles.”

“What roles would that be?”

“Mostly, not much. But Sasha had a bit of notoriety being the only non-lasat on the planet. Telling people about the prophecy helped him fit in better, especially among the Lasan refugees who’ve made their way here over the years.”

“I imagine you didn’t tell them about his – _my_ – participation in the fall of Lasan,” Alex asked, feeling guilty.

“No, people knew. I didn’t tell them, but Chava did – Chava’s a wise woman from Lasan, one of the ones who was with us when we found the path to Lira San. She’s the one who beat me over the head with the prophecy.” Zeb shrugged, scratching at the back of his neck. “It mattered less than you’re thinking. On Lira San, they’re very much about the here and now and the present Ashla – it was more important that Sasha changed his thinking, fought for his convictions, and that we loved each other. Focusing on the past too much is the influence of the Bogan.”

Simultaneously, that thinking seemed both very naïve and very Zeb-like.

As if confirming Alex’s thoughts, Zeb grinned a little. “So now you know why the Warrior is on Sasha’s bo-rifle. Shall we go knock the dust off these two beauties?”

“Are you sure I should use this bo-rifle?” Alex asked, suddenly concerned. “I neither won it honorably from its owner nor did they gift it to me.”

Zeb’s grin disappeared. “I just gave it to ya, didn’t I?” he said, accent thickening with irritation. “It’s okay, Alex. Sasha would have–”

 _Would have wanted me to have it,_ Alex finished silently. He wasn’t so sure about the sentiment, but he understood why Zeb found it hard to voice.

Still, if Zeb was really all right with Alex using Sasha’s weapon… “All right. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasana Translation:  
> Ufali – oatmeal or similar


	4. Chapter 4

The morning sun hit the little bit of yard by the house just right, illuminating the area Zeb and Sasha used to practice sparring in when they were home.

Zeb stood there now, in the circle scratched in the grass, watching Alex move. He’d noticed the slight limp before, but it was much more pronounced now. It was obvious it’d been years since Alex had wielded a bo-rifle, but equally obvious was his former proficiency.

Alex paced his half of the circle, spinning the bo-rifle with its electrical ends, passing it over his shoulders, around his waist, and from hand to hand. There was a familiarity there, to be sure, but it would take Alex a little while to get up to his former skill level.

Zeb could tell that _he_ was rusty, too, so he didn’t judge Alex. He and Sasha had worked together to increase each others’ skills and Zeb looked forward to doing that with Alex.

That limp would be harder to deal with, Zeb noted. Alex was obviously trying to avoid putting his full weight on his left leg. Sparring would be difficult with an aggravated old injury and Zeb didn’t want to make things worse.

 _I wonder if he ever saw a doctor after he left the Rebellion? Or did he try to punish himself by letting his legs heal wrong?_ Zeb shook his head.

“Okay,” he said. “It’s been a bit for us both, so wanna start out with some basic, low-impact stuff?”

Alex shrugged. “I’m good with that or with jumping right into it. Your call.”

 _I bet you’d jump into it. You’d jump and hurt yourself and think you deserved it._ “Slow and simple, then.” Zeb held his bo-rifle in the ready position. “Did your Zeb ever teach you the Honor Guard exercises?”

“We trained with them, whenever we had a moment,” Alex said. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Let’s see.” Zeb took a step forward, gently bringing his bo-rifle to bear, striking it against Sasha’s.

Alex held his ground easily.

A few more light blows and Zeb hit harder, catching Alex off-guard. Alex stumbled back, his leg nearly giving out beneath him.

Zeb stood up, lowering his bo-rifle. “You’re not ready for this,” he said, keeping his voice even so it didn’t sound like he was angry or disappointed.

“I’m as ready as I ever will be,” Alex said, taking up a defensive position once more. “Stop going easy on me.”

Thumbing the switch to retract his bo-rifle’s pikes, Zeb shook his head. “Alex, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Anger flickered across Alex’s face. “Don’t treat me like I’m less. I get that from people who don’t know me. Not you, too, Zeb,” he growled. “I know what I can take.”

 _I don’t think you do_ , Zeb thought. He couldn’t say it, however, or it would truly make Alex upset. “Let’s do something different. I have something I want to show you. Wait here.”

Taking both bo-rifles back to the closet, Zeb looked at them wistfully before closing the door. Someday, hopefully soon, he’d get them back out again once Alex could handle himself in a spar. Once Alex wasn’t _trying_ to hurt himself.

Zeb sighed, one hand on the closet door. _Sasha, I wish you were here to talk sense into Alex. Maybe he’d listen to you,_ he thought, sending the sad prayer up to the Ashla. _I wish you were here and that Alex had never lost his ‘me’ and we were all happy right now._

At the moment, however, Zeb just had Alex. And Alex needed to learn – or possibly re-learn – that it was okay to care for himself. That his worth wasn’t something external granted by other beings. That he didn’t need to throw up walls whenever Zeb tried to figure out why Alex hated himself.

Alex deserved for Zeb to make the attempt to show him how to care and be cared for, just as much as Sasha had. Zeb had _done_ all that with Sasha, years before, before Hoth. It’d been a long, arduous process, but surely Zeb could do it again if Alex let him.

Alex followed Zeb through the woods, along what he could tell used to be a well-worn trail. It needed some care, as blue and green vines and briars crept into the path.

His leg was cramping painfully after that single harsh blow from Zeb while they’d sparred. Alex couldn’t say that to Zeb, however. He couldn’t admit that Zeb was right. He couldn’t let Zeb in to care that much about him, not just yet. He’d much rather suffer through the pain – pain he’d dealt with for years on his own – than deal with the consequences of the truth. Even so, Alex could picture the unmistakable look of pity and sorrow on Zeb’s face; he’d seen that face in his own unfortunately immaculate memory too many times and had no desire to see it again.

Caught up as he was in focusing on walking normally, Alex was taken by surprise when the trail opened up on a vast lake. He stopped on the shoreline, trying to take in the scenery.

The water was a deep dark green, but not murky; Alex could see a fallen tree stretch underwater for quite a ways. A floating wooden dock creaked lazily in the breeze. Far off, islands dotted the lake’s center and red-treed mountains lined the far side.

It was, he noted, very peaceful. The only times Alex had been around water like this had been as a child on vacation at Coruscant’s north pole – and then, the shallows had been crowded and the beach overflowing with people.

Zeb didn’t even stop; he walked straight into the water. Hip deep, he turned and grinned at Alex. “You coming?”

Alex stood at the water’s edge and crossed his arms. “I don’t swim,” he said.

“I ain’t swimming.” Zeb walked forward carefully. It looked to Alex like he was doing something with his feet, but Alex couldn’t be sure what.

Suddenly, chest deep, Zeb’s grin widened and he dove straight down.

At first, Alex reined in the surprised gape that overtook his face and returned it to a more neutral expression. Of _course_ Zeb would be mischievously up to something, even if he’d said otherwise just moments before.

The water stilled, less clear as Zeb had kicked up silt, and the only color Alex could see was dark green – not purple, not even the bright green of Zeb’s eyes – and Alex’s breath hitched.

Unable to mask his worry, Alex took a step forward. “Zeb?”

There was no reply.

“Zeb?” he tried again, attempting not to sound as desperate as he truly was.

He had been under too long. Alex couldn’t stop the panic rising in his gut. He ripped his boots off and was down to underwear, ready to go in after Zeb despite knowing nothing about water, when the lasat broke the surface.

Zeb wasn’t alone. In his arms – no, latched _onto_ one of his arms – was a gigantic fish, nearly as big as Zeb himself. The fish thrashed and Zeb went under one more time. The cycle repeated itself a few times before Zeb finally came up, gasping for air, without the fish.

He muttered in Lasana as he waded back to the shore.

Alex stared at him. “What was _that_?”

Flopping on his back, Zeb asked, “The fish or the fishing?”

“Both?” Alex sat in the grass next to him, resisting the urge to reach out and wipe the water from Zeb’s face.

Zeb laughed a little, still getting his breathing under control. “That’s nal tythad. Uh, ‘hand fishing’. It’s how the Lira San Lasat get the big tikitythal that would break a fishing line.” He pointed back to the lake. “That particular fist is Tulchuurr. Beast. He’s been eluding me ever since Sasha and I moved here.”

“The same fish is still here after four years?” Alex had to admit, he didn’t know how long fish lived in general. Tulchuurr might be ancient for all Alex knew.

“And he’ll be there for many more unless I land him.” Zeb grinned again. “I’m out of shape. When I’m back in top form, Tulchuurr better watch out.”

Alex shook his head, a smile forming despite his efforts to stay stern. Forming a vendetta against a fish; that was such a– a _Zeb_ thing to do. He could easily imagine his Zeb doing the same thing, had they gotten the chance to come to Lira San together.

Zeb rolled on his side, water droplets glistening in his fur and soaking the simple linen short pants he wore, and stared at Alex.

Looking away, Alex tried to repress memories of the rare and special water showers he’d gotten to share with Zeb during the war. In retrospect, it was obvious how much his lasat had loved the water, but Alex had never really noticed because they hadn’t been around it enough.

So many things he hadn’t known. So many things he hadn’t told Zeb about himself. So many things they ought to have done as a married couple.

 ** _Kriff_** _the Empire for taking you from me!_ Alex thought vehemently. 

Forcing lightheartedness into his voice, he said, “I’m sure Tulchuurr will be in serious trouble once you’re back to normal.” He looked back out over the water. “You weren’t swimming, but do you?”

Zeb didn’t quite frown and he didn’t answer, but he seemed curious. “Thought you said you didn’t swim.”

“I don’t.” Alex shook his head. “I can’t. Not many opportunities in the part of Coruscant I lived in as a child and it wasn’t pushed in the Academy because it was assumed we’d all be in space.”

“Do you wanna learn?” Zeb’s offer was gentle but eager.

Alex eyed the water with some distrust. “I don’t know that it would be the best idea.”

“I can teach ya.” Zeb grinned, as if the prospect of seeing Alex nearly drown himself was amusing. That, or he really did want to teach Alex.

Either way, the idea made Alex uneasy. “I’m not sure I want to learn to swim near a fish you’ve affectionately and perhaps appropriately nicknamed ‘Beast’. It doesn’t strike me as the wisest plan.”

“Nah, the tikitythal won’t bother you, unless you stick something in their hidey holes. C’mon, I’ve got you.”

“Zeb.”

“I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I _wouldn’t_ ,” Zeb promised.

“Zeb, I don’t know about this,” Alex said, feeling pressured and certain that his expression was betraying more fear than it had in a long time. Even trying to call up the Imperial mask didn’t help.

When the lasat stood and offered his hand, however, it was a different story. Alex’s anxiety – and a half-dozen other feelings – scampered away, leaving just a single nagging thought.

_It’s Zeb. No matter what, it’s Zeb and he wouldn’t let you hurt yourself._

The traitorous thought that it wasn’t _his_ Zeb had no footing all of a sudden. Alex reached out his hand without so much as a tremble and took Zeb’s still wet one with a quick nod. “Okay.”

Zeb gripped his hand tight, lacing their fingers together, and led Alex out into the water. When they were about waist deep, he stopped. “The tikithythal holes start about here. Hop on my back.”

Alex felt very self-conscious about his bare toes in the oozy mud of the lake bottom, so close to tikitythal holes. Still… “ _Hop on your back_?”

“Like Bahryn. Let me carry you.” Zeb let go of Alex’s hand and gestured to his own shoulders.

 _Trust him_.

Alex looped his arms around Zeb’s neck and the next thing he knew, Zeb was falling face-first in the water, dragging Alex with him.

Spitting out a mouthful of lake water, Alex focused on hanging on and keeping his arms and legs out of the way as Zeb swam straight out into the middle of the lake. Muscles moved under Zeb’s skin, much the same way as they did when they sparred.

 _Oh, I miss that. I miss seeing him like that, grinning at me and daring me to attack_.

Once they were far from shore, Zeb stopped, treading water vertically. “First trick, Alex, is learning to float.”

“And you’re going to teach me when it’s _how_ deep?” Alex asked suspiciously.

“I told you, I’ve got you.”

Alex believed him. He followed Zeb’s instructions with his usual attention to detail and soon, Alex was floating on his back.

“You can always float,” Zeb assured him. “Even if you’re tired of swimming, you can still float. It’s almost like space, except ya don’t freeze.”

The joke almost got a smile out of Alex. He was too busy concentrating on staying afloat and not letting his face betray just how terrified he was that Zeb would swim out of reach.

“All right, back on,” Zeb said. “We’re getting you outta the water for a bit.”

Alex gripped Zeb’s shoulders again, climbing on his back. It occurred to him to wonder if his weight made swimming difficult for Zeb, but it was too late to ask. Zeb was going to have to drag him home one way or another.

“Wait,” Alex said suddenly, as Zeb set off deeper into the lake. “You’re going the wrong way.”

Zeb didn’t answer, but neither did he stop swimming. His goal soon became clear: a small island about a quarter kilometer from their bit of shoreline.

One they neared the island, Zeb stood once more. Alex carefully dropped from his back, feeling the lake bottom under his feet.

He’d never been so happy to feel solid, if slimy, ground.

Zeb relaxed on the sandy gravel of the lakeshore, basking in the sunlight. A meter away, Alex copied him, languidly stretching out.

Grinning, Zeb turned his head to watch the man who looked so much like his Sasha. Zeb wasn’t confusing the two, not anymore, but it _was_ nice to just look and remember sometimes.

 _Sasha, ni sasha, I miss you_ , he thought, sending a prayer through the Ashla. _But I have to wonder if you sent me Alex to make up for leaving me so soon._

“I thought you were going to teach me to swim, not haul me all over the lake.”

Zeb blinked and saw Alex returning his dreamy stare. “I will. You gotta get used to being in the water first, then you can swim,” he promised.

“Did you have to teach Sasha to swim?” Alex asked, sounding almost apologetic for bringing him up.

Maybe he’d been wrong to snap at Alex that morning when he brought up Sasha. Talking about Sasha was sometimes a hardship – karabast, sometimes even _thinking_ about him was hard – but recalling the good moments? Zeb thought that might be worth the pain, especially with Alex. How many of the same experiences did they share? Which ones were different?

They’d already uncovered some major differences and swimming was obviously another one. “I did, yeah,” Zeb said, turning his face back to the sky. He closed his eyes and remembered Sasha in the water, splashing and fussing and terrified to _let_ himself be terrified. “Yavin Four. There was a calm spot in the river and I took him there.”

Alex nodded. “I remember that spot. We sparred nearby.”

“That’s the one,” Zeb said. “Did you guys have the picnic?”

“You mean the one the pilots ruined?” Alex snorted, most undignified. “We did. Zeb tried so hard to make it romantic but as soon as we broke out the food, it was like a beacon had gone up, calling every pilot out of hiding.”

Zeb laughed. “By the time it was through, there was hardly anything left for Sasha and I.”

It felt good to laugh again when he thought of Sasha. It’s what his husband would have wanted from him, Zeb knew, but he’d been unable to see the joy in his memories for so long that he’d forgotten it was there.

“I still don’t know why all those pilots decided I was their… Rebel guardian or something,” Alex said.

“Most of ‘em were defectors. You ‘n Sasha were the highest ranking defectors that were still accessible. Made sense to me.” He thought back again, trying to separate out memories that they might have shared. “What about on Hoth? Did someone accidentally flood your quarters?”

“Someone? You mean Zeb slamming me up against the wall to kiss me, not realizing he had his hand on the sector’s environmental controls?”

“Ah– yup,” said Zeb, a little sheepishly. “Suppose that one _was_ my fault.”

“We were lucky the Princess never found out it was our fault,” Alex said. “Hoth was bad enough on its own; last thing we needed was more trouble.”

“Bad?” Hoth had been cold and trying, but he and Sasha had managed to eke out some of their best times there, up to and including the night Hera oversaw their wedding. “It wasn’t _that_ bad, was it?”

Alex shuddered as if he felt a chill in the warm sunlight. “You have fur. No matter what Zeb tried, I couldn’t stay warm. After coming so close to death on Bahryn, I wasn’t much good for anyone or anything on Hoth.”

“Huh.” Zeb stared at the sky once more, wondering if he wanted to push to find more shared memories. They were something good he could laugh at with Alex.

The different memories were something else altogether; a recurring reminder that Alex wasn’t Sasha. That Alex’s life had been different from Sasha’s. Zeb wasn’t sure yet if Alex had a harder time of things than Sasha, but someday, maybe, he’d learn.

Today was not that day, however. Before the sun completely dried him off, he stood again, shaking the sand out of his fur. Holding a hand out, he helped Alex to his feet. “Ready to head back? I think it’s almost lunch time.”

Alex nodded. “You _will_ teach me to swim at some point?” he asked.

“We’ll start tomorrow,” Zeb promised.

Their days revolved around the water after that. Mornings in the lake or on the island, swapping memories, afternoons walking to the market to buy the next day’s foods, evenings reading and teaching Lasana by the fireplace, and nights in their separate rooms.

Zeb patiently taught Alex to swim. As things were wont to do, Alex had a rough start, but he was a quick and determined learner.

The last time Zeb had seen someone pick up a new skill so quickly had been watching Sasha learn how best to teach their students at their Lithakan. He’d taken to it as if he’d been teaching his whole life, instructing the kits in the basics of bo-rifle and staff – but really teaching them discipline, respect, and confidence.

He wondered if Alex would enjoy it as much, if that ever became an option again. Zeb doubted it would be realistic anytime soon, however.

Alex had near-amazing stamina when it came to time spent in the water, almost as much as Zeb himself, but his knees and hips would cramp on him at inopportune times. At first, Alex tried to hide the pain from Zeb, but after nearly drowning in the middle of the lake when his left leg seized up on him, he’d had to sheepishly admit that his old injuries were holding him back, again.

They slowed down after that, Zeb keeping Alex from pushing himself to the breaking point. In return, Alex patiently did water exercises Zeb researched to strengthen his legs.

Some of those exercises required Zeb’s help and if he let himself enjoy the feeling of Alex’s skin against his fur in the water, those muscles flexing under his hands…

Not even Sasha would blame him, he was sure.

With slow but difficult daily work and patience, Alex found new life and new strength in the water, becoming more eager than Zeb to swim out to the island every day.

One day, as the heat of summer seeped away, announcing the coming of autumn, they lay on the island’s gritty beach together, drying off as they relaxed. The Lira San sun glowed warm above them, diffusing gently into the cloudy yellow sky.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zeb caught sight of Alex stretching and for once, he didn’t see Sasha. Zeb turned his head, watching Alex wince as he bent his knee.

“One day,” Alex said, rubbing the knee. “One day I’m going to make the swim out here without this damn leg hurting.”

Zeb rolled on his side, facing Alex. Gently, he placed a hand over Alex’s, knowing the extra heat would help the man’s knee feel better. “Did I ever tell you about the Lithakan?” he asked, knowing the answer. He’d avoided telling Alex much of what happened after Endor for fear of hurting him unknowingly.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Lith– that’s ‘fight’. What’s Lithakan mean?”

Smiling encouragingly, Zeb said, “You’re right, it means ‘fight’. Lithakan is the term for a fighting academy, where kits and youth go to learn the art of a staff or a bo-rifle.”

“And you went to one on Lasan before you were Honor Guard?” Alex guessed.

“I did,” Zeb confirmed. “But Sasha and I also had one here. It wasn’t open long, but it was something we both wanted to do. Lithakan Boosan gal Emek.”

“Warrior and… Child?” Alex frowned in concentration as he translated. “Warrior and Child Academy?”

“Got it,” Zeb said. “The plan was to teach Lasan Honor Guard methods to the Lira San kits, see them continue. Sasha also taught other staff methods he’d learned. Guess you know them, too.”

“If you ever let me touch that bo-rifle again,” Alex said, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

“It was a way to use what we learned in the war to help people in peacetime.” Zeb squeezed Alex’s hand lightly. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” Alex asked warily.

“You get your legs fixed – at a real human medcenter, not a field medic’s tent – and we’ll train again. We’ll reopen the Lithakan. Together, you and I.”

Alex lay back in the sandy dirt. “Zeb, I’m not going to be Sasha, even if I get my legs fixed.”

Complete and utter annoyance filled Zeb. He rolled over, straddling Alex’s waist and staring right into his golden brown eyes.

“Alex,” he said, letting his irritation bleed through. “You’re not Sasha and I don’t want you to be. I want you to be Alex. And I want Alex to not be in pain anymore. I want Alex to be able to spar again, to share everything he knows. I want to stand proudly _with_ Alex, instead of tiptoeing around him in case I say the wrong thing.”

Alex’s mouth gaped a little. He reached up, running a hand through Zeb’s soft chest fur. Zeb let himself purr, garnering a smile from Alex.

For the first time since Sakiya, Zeb leaned in and kissed Alex, hands on either side of the man’s head, claws digging into the sand beneath them.

Alex arched his back and moaned. It’d been too long since they’d touched each other. It’d been so hard to keep his hands to himself when Alex was so close.

He didn’t hold back anymore. Zeb let himself get lost in the smell of wet human, the sweet taste of Alex’s mouth, the sounds Alex made as Zeb moved to nibble along his neck.

It was time for Zeb to let Alex know he was wanted as _himself_ , not as a stand-in for Sasha.

“Back to the house,” Alex said breathily.

“Why not here?” Zeb asked, pulling back to look at him. “No one can see us.”

Alex arched his eyebrows, the harsh look softened by his fond smile. “There are places I don’t want sand, Garazeb.”

“Ah,” Zeb said. “Good point.” He stood, helping Alex up as he went, then swept the protesting man up in his arms, wading into the lake. He kissed Alex once more before letting him float free in the water.

Together, they swam back to the shore, Zeb holding back as usual so that Alex could keep up.

The walk back to the house took nearly twice as long as normal; they kept pushing each other up against the nearest trees, all desperate kisses and wandering hands.

Alex pressed against Zeb, running hands down his sides, squeezing and teasing as his fingers traipsed Zeb’s body.

Leaning back against the tree for leverage, Zeb explored Alex’s body, too. It was a familiar re-exploration, in many ways. Of course, Alex was very similar to Sasha, but Zeb had watched him enough to learn the man had his own quirks, his own musculature, his own scars.

Zeb wanted to learn every single one of them.

His hand dwarfed by Zeb’s, Alex let himself be led into the house and down the hall – into the bedroom he’d so resolutely avoided until now.

He hadn’t wanted to know how Zeb and Sasha lived. Hadn’t wanted to see what it was he might have had with his Zeb. Today, though…

Today, he was going to find out, at least in part.

Today, they both knew exactly who the other was and wasn’t.

Today, they were going to do it right.

Like a randy teenager, Alex pawed at Zeb’s damp swimsuit, trying to slide it off. Zeb tugged Alex’s shorts off much more easily, teasing him with light touches as he did so.

Alex’s head fell back and he moaned at the sensation of fur against his skin. There was nothing like the softness of Zeb’s fur; nothing he’d tried could ever replicate how it felt to have his lover caress him.

Large purple fingers covered his mouth, the claw of a thumb tracing up and down his throat. “You’re gonna be loud, aren’t you?”

How could he not be? His Zeb had coaxed him out of his shell, from shy and repressed to keening and wanting. He _needed_ to be loud for Zeb. Alex did his best to nod.

Zeb grinned, teeth showing. “Good. No neighbors nearby, anyway.”

Recalling their last, disastrous attempt at sex, Alex made a decision. This time, _he’d_ take charge and make karking sure Zeb was taken care of to the best of his abilities. After all, Zeb had spent the past six weeks caring for Alex; teaching him to swim was the least of it. 

He’d cooked and kept up the house without asking Alex to pitch in, though he patiently taught him recipes from Lasan and Lira San both when Alex asked. He did his best to recreate Alex’s favorite meals from what was available. He’d been teaching Alex the local Lasana dialect, history, and spirituality.

All things Alex never got the chance to do with his Zeb. All things Alex never knew he wanted.

It was time for him to return the favor, in whatever small ways he could manage.

“My turn,” Alex whispered into Zeb’s ear.

Those soft ears perked up. “Oh?” Zeb asked as Alex maneuvered him gently onto the bed. He soon caught onto Alex’s plan. “Oh!”

Knowing this Zeb would only utter sweet nothings, Alex adjusted his own words to match. “Thank you, Zeb,” he said, kissing his way down the lasat’s stomach. “Thank you for giving me a chance. Thank you for being patient and kind.”

Zeb’s back arched as Alex went lower. “Alex…” he moaned.

Alex grinned, inordinately proud he could elicit such noises from the lasat warrior. “Do you have lube or are we improvising?”

Zeb pointed to the bedside table nearest Alex. In the drawer, Alex found what he was looking for and started rubbing the bottle between his hand to warm it up.

“Karabast, Alex, you have no idea how I’ve wanted you.” Zeb leaned back on the bed.

“I think I have some idea,” Alex said. “And I want to do this slowly.”

Zeb writhed under Alex’s steady, gentle ministrations. “You tease,” he accused. “I can take more.”

“I know you can,” murmured Alex. “You’ll take anything I give you, won’t you?”

“I just want to take _you_ ,” Zeb replied softly.

Alex ran his hands up Zeb’s thighs, ruffling fur as he went. “You will. Patience, Zeb.”

Zeb did not appear very patient once Alex’s fingers made their way to the back of his legs. That hadn’t been one of the other Zeb’s spots, but Alex was more than happy to indulge the Zeb in front of him. Twirling his fingertips in short fur, he caressed and massaged his way up Zeb’s legs, carefully, deliberately.

He was rewarded with the sight of Zeb’s body responding to him more and more as he moved up his legs. The lasat was broadcasting his arousal quietly, but definitively: jaw tensing slightly at each motion of Alex’s hands, chest catching as his breath hitched, ears down and back.

His Zeb had reacted much the same back before…

Alex focused on the present Zeb. Knowing he could please this Zeb like that filled his body with warmth. “Are you ready, Garazeb?” he asked softly, stroking Zeb as he did so.

Zeb gasped at his touch. “Please, Alexsandr. I want you. I _need_ you in me.”

Moving slowly, aware how important this was to them both, Alex pressed in, watching Zeb’s face as he did so; the initial shock and discomfort, then relaxation as he got used to Alex being inside him. Alex stilled for a few moments, moving only his hands, roaming and kneading the parts of Zeb’s body he could reach in an attempt to help Zeb bleed off the tension.

At Zeb’s nod, Alex began moving. With each motion, Zeb spoke, sometimes in Basic, sometimes in Lasana, but almost all meaningless little nothings. As he neared climax, they became less intelligible.

Alex found he didn’t mind them this time; instead, he encouraged them, talking sweetly to Zeb, stroking him as he spoke. Zeb’s voice, gentle and caring and loving, was doing as much for Alex as the feel of Zeb’s body was.

“Alex, my Alex, _please_ – Oh, Alexsandr,” whimpered Zeb. “I’m gonna– gonna–”

“Go ahead, Garazeb,” said Alex, practically purring with pleasure. “I’ve got you.”

The permission was all Zeb needed. He shook and gasped as he came, clenching tight around Alex.

Alex didn’t understand all the Lasana Zeb cried as he shuddered through, but he did recognize two phrases: ‘ni sasha’ and ‘l’ashkerrir an’.”

‘Sasha’ wasn’t a reference to the lost Alexsandr, he knew now. ‘My heart’, it meant instead.

And the other phrase… he’d pieced it together and didn’t think Zeb knew he understood it, but it was a declaration of love.

The surge of emotion that enveloped him knowing that Zeb felt that way – at least in that moment – was enough to bring Alex over the edge, too.

He used to think he needed his Zeb’s dirtier mutterings and slight sharpness to enjoy himself, but making love – and that’s what it had felt like, not just sex – with this other Zeb, softer and gentler, was possibly even better.

Spent, Alex kissed Zeb on the knee. “I’ll be back,” he promised, returning a few moments later with a warm washcloth to clean them both up. As he did so, he peppered Zeb’s body with kisses.

Once they were both clean, Alex crawled onto the bed and into Zeb’s waiting arms. He nuzzled into Zeb’s neck while Zeb kissed the top of his head.

“How are your legs?” Zeb asked, voice still a little shaky. “That didn’t hurt you…?”

“No,” said Alex, smiling because _of course_ Zeb’s first thought would be Alex’s own comfort. “All that time in the water has helped. All because of you.”

“You did the work.” Zeb rubbed a hand up and down Alex’s bare arm.

“I’m not going to be good for much work now,” Alex joked weakly.

Zeb looked at the chrono. “Bit early for bed, but I’m up for a nap, if you want to stay here.”

 _Here. In your arms? I don’t want to be anywhere else._ “I don’t think you’re ‘up’ for anything at the moment.”

Zeb laughed, the rumble in his chest palpable to Alex, too. Together, they moved just enough to maneuver themselves under the blanket.

Alex scooted so he was sharing Zeb’s pillow, stealing a few more kisses before the lasat could drift off to sleep.

Limbs entwined, wrapped up together, they idly caressed each other as they fell asleep.

 _I think I love you, too,_ Alex thought. _But if you’re not ready to say it out loud when I’m supposed to understand it, I’m not ready either_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasana Translation  
> Nal tythad – hand fishing  
> Tikitythal – my bastardized version of catfish  
> Tulchuurr – beast  
> Ni sasha – my heart  
> Lithakan – fighting academy  
> L’ashkerrir an – I love you


	5. Chapter 5

Pounding on the front door jerked Zeb back into the waking world. He was out of the bed before it registered that he wasn’t the only being in it.

Alex looked just as wide-eyed as Zeb felt. They hadn’t had any visitors since coming to Lira San; who could be at their door?

_“GARAZEB ORRELIOS! Open this door right now!”_

Zeb froze. That was Hera’s voice.

_What is Hera doing here? How will I explain Alex? Ashla help me._

“I see the lights on! I know you’re in there, Zeb!”

“Stay in here,” Zeb instructed Alex, while pulling on some loose clothes as quickly as he could manage without tripping.

Once Zeb was sure he was dressed decently, he approached the front door slowly, carefully pressing the buttons to unlock and open it.

The door swooshed to the side to reveal not just Hera, but all the Spectres: Hera and Jacen and Sabine and Ezra. All four. The only one missing was Chopper and knowing Hera, he was probably guarding the _Ghost_.

“ _There_ you are,” Hera said, crossing her arms and using her disappointed mother voice. “We’ve been trying to find you. Did you ditch all your comms?”

Zeb scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Actually, yeah,” he admitted. “Whaddaya need me for?”

“Why don’t you let us in first?” Hera asked.

At a loss for anything else to do, Zeb stood aside to let everyone into the main room.

Sabine eyed him as she passed by. “You’re looking better than when we last saw you. Getting out of Hutt Space has been good for you.”

That didn’t answer Zeb’s question. He muttered a thanks and glanced at Ezra, in case the Jedi was willing to answer.

Ezra sat on one of the chairs, perched on the edge like he was uncomfortable. “There’s something going on with the Force, Zeb. Luke and I both felt it, five or six weeks ago. We couldn’t figure it out for weeks, but then we each had visions. I saw you and Sasha and I knew you were caught up in it somehow. Sabine and I tried to find you on Sakiya – looked for a week – but you weren’t there. Hera suggested we all try here.”

“I didn’t think you’d really ever come back,” Hera said, pulling Jacen to sit on her lap. He was so _big_. Zeb hadn’t seen him since he was four. “What changed?”

“I think that would be me.”

Zeb closed his eyes briefly at Alex’s precise, clipped words. “I told you to stay in there,” he sighed. Resigned, he turned to watch Alex round the corner into the room.

Ezra and Sabine stood when they saw him, shock evident on their faces. Hera stayed seated, but was equally surprised.

How were Zeb and Alex going to explain this? Neither had the slightest clue how Alex ended up in Zeb’s reality.

“You survived the battle?” asked Sabine, accusingly. “Where have you been for the last four years?”

Ezra shook his head, eyes closed. “No, the Force isn’t right around him, it’s… churning, somehow.” He opened his eyes and locked eyes with Alex. “You’re not Kallus.”

“I am,” Alex said. “Just not _your_ Kallus. Not Zeb’s Sasha. I’m Alex.”

His words were relaxed, though Alex looked anything but. Dressed in clothes scavenged from Zeb’s closet, hair still a mess but face immaculately trimmed, he stood stiff and upright, the way Sasha had before his Imperial indoctrination wore off. Before Sasha fully embraced the Rebellion – and Zeb’s affections.

He was obviously as nervous about this as Zeb was.

“What does that mean?” Hera asked, frowning. “Not our Kallus?”

She looked to Zeb, who shrugged. “We don’t know how or why, but we were both on Sakiya, in the same apartment, in different galaxies until he somehow came over here.”

“That sounds like the plot to a bad holofilm.” Sabine had her arms crossed, glaring at Zeb through bright orange hair.

“It does,” Alex agreed. “But it happened. I’m here and I’m not the same man who died here.”

“What were _you_ doing on Sakiya in your galaxy?” Ezra asked. “Why were you both in the same spot?”

“I was doing the same thing Zeb was doing: hiding from everyone and everything. Five years ago, my Zeb died on Endor, so I had no desire to stay in polite society.” Slowly, Alex walked to the nearest wall and leaned against it as he spoke.

“So Kal– _Sasha_ died here and Zeb died there?” Hera asked for clarification. “And now you’re here and what? The two of you just picked up where you left off?”

Zeb couldn’t help his bitter laugh. “Hardly. Hera, it’s been a long six weeks. That’s part of why I haven’t tried to contact you. We’ve been dealing with a lot.”

“You coulda ‘dealt with it’ with our help,” Sabine pointed out.

“That wouldn’t have helped,” Alex said softly. “We had to do this ourselves.”

Jacen started wiggling on Hera’s lap, so she let him down, but not before whispering instructions in his ear. The boy ran outside, presumably to play. Hera turned back to the conversation once he was out of sight. “And what did you do?”

“Each other, if I’m reading the Force right.”

“Ezra!” fussed Hera and Sabine in unison.

Over by the wall, Alex flushed pink. Zeb frowned at Ezra. He’d grown up in so many ways during his time in the Unknown Regions, but sometimes he was still that same annoying little brother he’d been during their years together as Spectres.

Ezra held up his hands. “Sorry, shouldn’t have joked about that.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” Zeb said. He scratched at his beard, thinking of what to say. “Alex and I _have_ started something – something _new_ , not trying to continue what we had before with– with the others. And maybe you all _can_ help us with the next step. We need to get Alex to a human medcenter to fix his legs.”

Alex wrapped his arm around himself protectively and stared at the floor.

“What’s wrong with your legs?” Hera asked gently.

Alex shook his head and glanced at Zeb, who nodded. It was safe to talk about it if it he was willing.

Apparently Alex was willing. “On Endor, when Zeb died, I was wounded too. A medic patched me up, but I never got further treatment. My muscles seize up sometimes, my joints hurt, though that might simply be age, and the bone healed wrong in a couple of spots. It all means I can’t do a lot of walking or other physical activity anymore.”

“I’ve been after him about this since he got here,” Zeb said, giving Alex a look.

Alex arched his eyebrows in response.

“You haven’t said you’ll go yet,” Zeb pointed out, eyes not leaving Alex’s. “I’m still waiting on a yes.”

“Ooooh-kay,” said Ezra, sitting back down. “You’re already arguing like Zeb and Sasha used to, so I guess that’s a good sign.”

Sabine reached over and smacked Ezra in the arm, giving him a look before asking, “What can we help with?”

“ _If_ Alex agrees, the medcenters here aren’t meant for humans. We’d need a ride to somewhere with more humans,” Zeb pointed out. “And if you’re here, so’s the _Ghost_ and maybe we could work for you in exchange for a ride.”

Hera leveled her gaze at Zeb. “You realize I _will_ make you work?”

Alex snorted, a hand flying to his face to cover his mouth. “My apologies, that struck me as amusing. But yes, I would expect nothing less from you, General Syndulla.”

“Hera,” she said, with only the slightest touch of exasperation.

Alex nodded. “Hera, then.”

“I take it you have nothing planned other than ‘get Alex to a human world’, do you, Zeb?” Hera asked, voice kinder than her words.

Zeb scratched the back of his head. “Well, no. Not really. The whole thing is sorta new.”

“Do you know what planet you want to go to?” Sabine asked.

“No,” Zeb admitted.

“Lothal,” Ezra said, looking up.

Zeb frowned, echoing the expression on Alex’s face. 

“Why Lothal?” Alex asked. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to go where they didn’t know Sasha? Especially as ISB?”

“That’s where Luke is,” Ezra explained. “When I had my vision of you two, he had a vision of the rubble of the Jedi Temple. I can help him figure out what happened there while you take Alex to the medcenter in Capital City. It’s back in good condition after Thrawn’s barrage and Lothal is doing well after the Empire fell.”

Zeb bit his lip, thinking. Lothal was probably better than heading to the Core, which had more humans but also stricter checks on identifications. “Lothal works,” he said, “but we still have one problem.”

“I don’t officially exist?” Alex guessed.

Hera sighed. “So what you’re saying is that we need to get a slicer to create a new file for you.”

Alex looked apologetic. “I suppose we do.”

“So you’re agreeing?” Zeb asked, just to be sure.

“I’m agreeing.” Alex didn’t elaborate, but the answer still made Zeb smile.

“Great,” Sabine said. “So when are we heading out?”

“Not until tomorrow,” Hera said. “We haven’t seen Zeb in years and we’re just getting to know Alex, so we’re going to all eat dinner together like civilized people and leave in the morning.”

“I’ve got to go to market if we’re cooking here,” Zeb said. “I don’t have enough for everyone.”

Hera and Sabine looked at each other. “Let’s go to the market, then,” said Sabine. “You, me, Hera, and Jacen.”

 _Leave Alex with Ezra? Is that a good idea?_ Zeb blinked the thought away. _Of course it’ll be fine. I’m just being overprotective of Alex._

“Sounds good. Let me get my bags and we can go.” Zeb paused. “Assuming you rented a speeder and I don’t need to call a cab.”

“We’ve got a speeder,” Hera assured him.

Zeb nodded and walked over to Alex. “You okay? You can come with if you’re not,” he checked quietly.

Alex shook his head. “It will probably be good for me to stay. Ezra might be able to figure out what happened to me.”

“Just as long as he doesn’t send you back,” Zeb said, and kissed Alex’s forehead lightly. It was almost instinct to do so; the kiss came as naturally as they had with Sasha.

Zeb took that as a good sign.

Alex moved to the couch after everyone left, looking at Ezra sitting in one of the easy chairs. “You said the Force was, what, _churning_ around me? What does that mean?”

Ezra looked at him, head cocked in thought. “I don’t know. I wish Luke had come, but like I said, he and Wedge are on Lothal and I haven’t heard from them. But it’s like the Force knows you don’t belong here.”

“And it’s trying to send me back?” Alex’s stomach dropped at the thought of waking up back in his own galaxy, alone again.

“No, it’s trying… to keep you here, I think.” Ezra frowned. “Like it’s trying to make you assimilate in this universe. It’s done that somewhat; there’s a blending of your Force presence with the Force around you.”

That sounded a little silly to Alex, but he wasn’t a Jedi. He knew enough to know that the Force was a real thing, even if he couldn’t sense it or manipulate it. Alex had certainly been thrown about by Force-wielders before, from Inquisitors to Ezra himself, so he’d felt the effects.

But the idea of the Force, well, _caring_ about him, for lack of a better term, was strange and almost ludicrous.

“I’d have to spend more time with you to be sure,” Ezra said. “Make sure that’s the direction it’s going. But–” he stretched a hand out towards Alex and shut his eyes “–I can feel a bit of Zeb there, too. Like… threads of his presence are being used to tie yours here. Some of them feel very new.”

Alex pondered that for a moment, turning it over in his mind. “So what you’re saying is that the closer I get to Zeb, the more I’m tied to _this_ universe.”

Ezra nodded slowly, lowering his hand. “I _think_ so. Like I said, I’d need to spend more time with you to be sure.”

“Well, if we’re to ride to Lothal with you, then we ought to have some time.” Alex wrinkled his nose at the idea of returning to the site of so many of his Imperial crimes – or rather, Sasha’s Imperial crimes.

“We’ve got some time now,” Ezra pointed out. “Is your galaxy like ours?”

“If you’re asking me if the sky is still the same color or if there’s still hyperspace travel or if the major battles of the war still happened, then yes,” Alex said. “But Zeb and I have discovered many differences.”

“Like what?”

Alex thought for a moment. “Well, Zeb told me you and Grand Admiral Thrawn disappeared for a few years because of the purrgil after taking Lothal. Events in my reality didn’t occur that way. Thrawn was killed and the purrgil destroyed _all_ the Imperial ships, including the _Chimaera_. My Ezra never boarded the _Chimaera_.”

Ezra nodded, not sounding as surprised as Alex had expected. “What else was different?”

“My Zeb and I weren’t married,” Alex said. He didn’t particularly like revisiting this difference, but it was a major one. “He’d just proposed when he died.”

“Huh,” Ezra said. “It’s kinda hard _not_ to think of you guys as married. Even before Zeb and Sasha were engaged, they seemed meant for each other – at least after Sasha defected. Which was crazy then and is still crazy now. If anyone should have hated each other…”

“It should be us,” Alex agreed, a half-smile on his face. “I think, in both galaxies, you can thank Zeb for that. He’s the one with the big heart. I was the one who lucked out because of it.”

Zeb weaved through the light crowd, trusting Hera and Sabine to follow him. The market hadn’t changed much since he first moved to Lira San with Sasha, so he knew exactly which stalls he wanted to visit.

“Zeb!” called Hera, making him pull up short. “You’re going too fast.”

Zeb looked guiltily at Hera, who had one hand clamped firmly around Jacen’s. The boy was pouting, but behaved. Zeb assumed he was used to visiting strange ports with his mom. “Sorry,” he apologized.

“Sabine, will you?” Hera asked, handing Jacen off to the Mandalorian. Once Jacen was firmly in Sabine’s care, Hera pushed her way to walk next to Zeb. “Talk to me, Zeb. What’s really going on here?”

Frowning, Zeb looked down at Hera. “What do you mean?”

“I mean someone who looks like Sasha just magically shows up and now you’re together as if…”

 _As if Sasha never died._ Zeb balled his hands into fists, trying not to react angrily. “If you’re saying I’ve forgotten Sasha…”

This wasn’t a conversation they needed to be having in the crowded market. Zeb led the way down a quiet street and stopped, turning around to face Hera.

Hera stared back at him, not intimidated in the least. “Zeb, I just don’t want you to do this because you think–”

“Because I think he’s Sasha?” Zeb finished, irritated. “I know he isn’t, Hera. Just like he knows I’m not the Zeb that died in that other universe. But he’s here and so am I. So here and now, we’ve been able to become Zeb and Alex. Together. And I’m willing to fight for that.”

“You’re not with him out of guilt? You don’t feel obligated to stay with him?”

Zeb’s eyes narrowed. “He’s not _using_ me, Hera. This is all a lot more complicated than that.”

“I’m sure it–”

“Jacen!”

They turned to see Jacen wrench out of Sabine’s grip and run to the large transparisteel window of the building next to them so he could look inside.

When Zeb realized where they were, his breath caught. Maybe it was coincidence or maybe it was habit, but he’d taken the group straight to the Lithakan. He’d never sold it, for some reason he could never name, so it sat there, just off the market, collecting dust.

Dust that Jacen was brushing aside so he could see.

Zeb stepped up next to him, resting a hand on the window. “Come back in a year, kid,” he said quietly. “And maybe this place will be open again.”

“Lithakan Boosan gal Emek.” From the other side of Jacen, Sabine read the sign on the door. “Zeb, is this–?”

“The academy Sasha and I ran,” he said. “You never got to see it open and I couldn’t bear to sell it after Sasha died, just like the house. I don’t know why I thought leaving things to rot was better than selling them.” 

Hera stood behind Jacen, a hand on her son’s shoulder to keep him from running off again. “You told us a lot about it. What are you going to do with it now?”

“Once Alex heals, I want to open it again, with him.” Zeb shook his head to head off protests from Hera. “This was a good place. I want to share it with Alex. I have the chance to get some of my life back, because of Alex, and I want it. I want my old life back, as much as I can.” 

They stood there in silence for a few moments while Zeb tried to calm his heart rate.

With a nod, Hera put a hand on Zeb’s arm. “You still miss Sasha and that’s okay, Zeb. You loved him. Alex being here doesn’t change that.”

Zeb eyed her. He hadn’t mentioned Sasha, but she was right. He did feel a little bit of guilt towards Sasha for being happy again – even if he did know Sasha would fuss at him for that guilt. “I know. I loved Sasha. Part of me always will,” he explained. “But I love Alex, too.”

Hera nodded. “Does he love you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t told him how I feel yet.” Zeb shrugged and looked first at Sabine and then Hera. “I want you to get to know him. Alex is… well, he’s pretty wonderful. He went through so much more than Sasha did and yet he’s still got a such kind heart.”

“We _will_ get to know him,” Sabine said. “And if you love him, I’m sure we will, too. Just like Sasha.”

“We understand each other,” Zeb said. He started to say something else, but quickly changed his mind.

Hera watched him closely. “What were you going to say?”

Zeb tried to brush it off. “Nothing.”

“ _Zeb_.”

Sighing, Zeb looked away. “I thought you might understand because of Kanan. Putting aside the different galaxies thing, Alex and I lost the men we loved, just like you did. We can – and do – connect over that.” He braced himself for some form of anger from Hera.

It never came. Zeb peeked back cautiously and found Hera watching him, arms crossed. He couldn’t read her expression – which told him, more than anything, how long it’d really been since he last saw his family. 

He moved away from the Lithakan window, guiding Jacen as he went, forcibly stopping himself from looking back through the dusty transparisteel. “I shouldn’ta said anything,” Zeb mumbled. “Come on, I’ll be done shopping in a few.”

“Zeb,” Hera repeated.

He looked at her guiltily.

“I can’t say I fully understand this thing you have with Alex, but I understand loss. And I guess if I got the chance to try again with Kanan, even a different version of him… Well, I’d try.” She reached out and took Jacen’s hand again. “And if I gave you the impression I completely disapproved, I’m sorry. We just want to watch out for you. We want the best for you.”

“And I already had the best,” Zeb said morosely. “But I might have it again, with Alex.”

“I hope you get it,” Hera said. “I don’t want to lose you again, Zeb.”

 _Ah._ That was the real reason Hera was being cautious about Alex: she was afraid Zeb would lose him too and run off again.

Zeb feared the same thing, to be honest. But he didn’t have any plans to let Alex get away from him, either.

Sabine bumped up against Zeb’s arm and took the market basket from him. “All right, big guy. Show us what we need to buy. I’m ready to be astounded by Lira San cooking again.”

“Can we have meilooruns?” Jacen asked.

“Sure thing, kid,” Zeb said. “We’ll pick out some meilooruns just for you and your mom. You can have them after dinner, okay?”

“Okay!” said Jacen cheerfully, skipping ahead and pulling Hera along with him.

Zeb hung back just a second, giving in and looking at the Lithakan again.

 _Soon,_ he thought. _Soon Alex and I will open it up again and he’ll be as happy teaching as you were, Sasha._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you would like to avoid reading about one of the deaths, skip the second italicized and indented portion!

The trip to Lothal was roundabout; Hera had cargo that needed to be delivered in the Mid-Rim before they could head to the Outer Rim and the Lothal sector.

Alex found the _Ghost_ crew of Zeb’s universe worked together like the _Ghost_ crew of his universe and it was easy to fall back into old patterns. About the only change was where everyone bunked – the cabin Alex was used to staying in was occupied by Ezra, so he and Zeb were relegated to Jacen’s room while Jacen slept with Hera.

In both universes, Sabine decorated the _Ghost_ with murals and smaller, cartoon-like drawings. Jacen’s cabin was done mostly with drawings of animals – from loth-cats to purrgil – but there was one large mural of the _Ghost_ crew.

It was a crew that had only worked together briefly, at least in Alex’s past. It didn’t just show Jacen’s parents, Sabine, Ezra, and Zeb, but also Rex and… and Sasha.

“Jacen might be the official Spectre Seven,” Sabine explained when Alex mentioned it in passing that first night, “but that doesn’t mean Sasha and Rex weren’t part of the crew. Hera’s told him stories about everyone on that wall.”

“Really?” Alex arched his eyebrows. “Everyone?”

Sabine smiled at him. “Yeah. They’re all his family even if they aren’t on the ship. It’s not like we quit loving Zeb because he ran off. Or Rex because he and Wollfe retired. Or Kanan because he died. Same went for Sasha.”

“Huh.” Alex studied the painting, wondering if he’d completely misinterpreted things in his own galaxy. He’d assumed the _Ghost_ crew there wanted nothing to do with him once Zeb was gone; assuming they’d only tolerated him for Zeb’s sake. Perhaps he’d been mistaken. Perhaps he could have stayed in polite society with them.

Of course, if he’d stayed with them, would he have ended up in this universe with Zeb? Maybe the five years of lonesome misery were worth it if they led him to his new lover.

Walls were thin on the _Ghost_ and with a little one on board, Zeb and Alex kept their hands to themselves. Nevertheless, they shared a bed in Jacen’s cabin rather than splitting up. Things were tight, but Alex didn’t really mind. He slept using Zeb as a pillow, wedged between the lasat and the wall – just as he’d done during the war years with his Zeb.

Despite the fact that the _Ghost_ ’s beds were singularly uncomfortable compared to Zeb’s soft mattress back on Lira San, it was an easy transition. In many ways, it felt like coming home.

Alex hadn’t had a home since he was a child, not really, just bunkrooms and cabins and trunks packed ready for the next reassignment. Moving onto the _Ghost_ after he and Zeb finally got to be with each other was the first time he’d truly felt welcome somewhere.

It hit Alex the night before they landed on Lothal that perhaps it wasn’t the place that felt like home.

It was Zeb.

In any universe, Zeb was his touchstone, his anchor, and the reason he still had a heart.

The lasat slept next to him, arms and legs wrapped around him, holding Alex securely. Alex buried his face in Zeb’s fur, reveling in the softness, the warmth, and the smell.

He’d never understood the aversion most people seemed to have for the smell of a lasat. Alex had grown up in the sewer levels of Coruscant – _that_ was a repulsive smell that clung to a being – and lasat smell was nothing close. To be fair, Alex was probably biased; the first time he’d been close enough to Zeb to smell him was on Bahryn and from nearly that point on, the smell meant _Zeb_ and _safety_ and _love_.

Alex was grateful for that safety and love when they landed in Lothal’s Capital City. He wasn’t nervous, per se, but he was acutely aware that he had done terrible things to Lothal when he worked for the Empire and that Lothal had likely not forgotten. Even though this wasn’t the exact Lothal he’d terrorized, Sasha had, and for that Alex was wrought with remorse.

As if he sensed Alex’s guilt, Zeb took his hand, lacing their fingers together just so, and walked with him down the ramp.

They were met by two faces Alex had barely thought of since the war ended: Luke Skywalker and Wedge Antilles. Both still looked just as youthful as they had on Endor, eager to get to work. Once, Alex had had that same constant vigor, but his time alone had tempered him. The only one who could inspire such energy in him at the present was Zeb.

Luke, as eerily calm as always, nodded at Alex as he left the _Ghost_. Wedge was a bit more demonstrative.

“Whoa. Ezra wasn’t kidding.”

“Toldja,” Ezra said, sauntering down the ramp, Jacen on his back. “What’ve you guys found?”

“No,” said Zeb firmly. “First we get Alex to the medcenter.”

Alex stuck a hand in his pocket and fingered the identicard Hera had given him the day before. “And see how good this slicer actually is.”

Hera glanced at her chrono. “Well, he made you an appointment with a surgeon in two hours. Guess we’ll see then. Probably ought to get there soon.”

Zeb squeezed Alex’s hand. It was time for the hardest part of their plan: splitting up. Zeb was too recognizable – especially on Lothal – as one of the few lasat who ventured into the greater galaxy. For him to show up with someone who looked like Sasha, even with a different identity, would raise questions they couldn’t answer.

Wedge was to accompany Alex to the medcenter while Zeb was to go with Luke and Ezra to the Jedi Temple ruins. Hera, Sabine, and Jacen would stay in town, looking for goods to trade and serving as backup should any be needed.

Zeb rested a hand on the back of Alex’s head, giving his forehead a kiss. “Take care,” he said quietly.

“This is just an assessment,” Alex reminded him. “I’m not going through surgery yet.”

With a soft smile, Zeb let his hand drop to Alex’s shoulder. “Whatever you’re doing, take care. I want to see you tonight.”

“You will,” Alex promised.

Thankfully, Alex was true to his word; it was the day’s one success.

“I don’t know what that slicer put on that identicard, but they’re working me in tomorrow,” Alex explained that night. “Put me through all sorts of scans today to prepare for it.”

“Good. You deserve to get rid of the pain,” Zeb said, sitting next to Alex on the _Ghost_ ’s ramp, watching the sunset through the doors of the spaceport. 

Alex laughed softly. “You do realize there’ll be a lot more of that before it goes away? Getting the surgery is just the first step.”

Zeb rubbed Alex’s back reassuringly. “I know. But this time, you’ll have me to help you heal, so you got nothin’ to worry about.”

Alex gave a thin smile and nodded. “So what happened at the temple?” he asked, an obvious ploy to get the conversation away from him.

“Not a damn thing,” Zeb said, letting him steer the conversation. “Luke and Ezra said they felt something ‘alive’ in there, but there wasn’t anything we found.”

“Alive?”

“Force-alive. Not alive-alive. Luke thinks it was because of me since I’m the closest with you.”

“So they really need me out there.” Alex sighed. “I can reschedule–”

“No, you can’t.” Zeb shook his head. “Whatever’s happening out there, it’s not your worry. You just focus on getting through tomorrow.”

Alex leaned over, resting his head on Zeb’s shoulder. “Did you take care of Sasha like this during the war?”

Zeb pursed his lips at the mention of Sasha, but relaxed quickly. “A bit,” he admitted quietly. “Someone had to make sure he stopped working long enough to eat. But there at the end, I felt like I didn’t need to. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

Alex nodded, the motion bunching the shoulder of Zeb’s shirt. “My Zeb did that for me, too. And it turned out I should have been watching out for _him_.”

Zeb wrapped his arm around Alex, holding him close. “He’d be glad you were getting help now.”

“I know,” Alex said without hesitation. “He’d be glad I have you. And you know Sasha would want you to forgive yourself.”

Zeb tensed a little, but only a little. He took a deep breath. “I know,” he echoed. “I think having you here is helping me do that.”

“As long as you know I’m not–”

“I know you’re not,” Zeb said, giving Alex a squeeze. “I thought we established that. Neither of us are.”

The last bit of the sun dipped below the horizon. Zeb rested his face against the top of Alex’s head, once more enjoying the company of someone he loved.

Someone going to go through a major surgery the next day.

Zeb knew it was time to say something.

“Alex,” he murmured, his breath ruffling the human’s hair.

Alex hummed sleepily in response.

Zeb shook him a little, to wake him up. Alex sat up, looking at Zeb in confusion.

“Alex,” he repeated, taking a deep breath. “Before tomorrow, before you go, I want you to know I love you. _You_ , yourself. Not anyone else.”

Looking away, off into the night, Alex spoke almost shyly. “I know,” he said. “I heard you say it before, in Lasana.”

Zeb reached out, gently grasping Alex’s chin and turning his face back. “You did? You understood that?”

“I did. I’m a quick learner, but you know that.” Alex sounded almost apologetic. He lifted his eyes to meet Zeb’s. “I love you, too. You should also know that.”

“Alex…”

“I don’t know why the Force brought us together, Garazeb, but I’m grateful it has.”

Zeb leaned in, sliding his hand around the back of Alex’s head, and scented him. Alex tilted his head obligingly.

“The last time I told anyone I loved them…” Alex trailed off, breath tickling Zeb’s ear.

“He died,” Zeb finished for him. “Alex, we’re not in a war anymore. You and I are going to leave Lothal in a week and go back home. _Our_ home. I’m not losing you and you’re not losing me.”

“I know,” Alex said again, but he didn’t quite look like he believed it.

Zeb kissed Alex then, soft and sweet and long, full of promise. “Trust me.” He switched to Lasana, hoping Alex would let the words sink in. “L’ashkerrir an, Alexsandr Kallus, ni astyr, sastyrial ashkerra.”

Alex leaned his forehead against Zeb’s. “L’asherrir an,” he repeated. “Sillir lis valir sir teranal.”

 _Let’s go to bed_. “Okay,” Zeb said. “Come with me, love.”

Zeb stood, pulling Alex to his feet as he went, leading him back into the _Ghost_ for the night, stopping only to close the ramp behind them. He intended to hold Alex tight as they slept, hoping that would reassure the man that it was safe to love again.

Reluctantly, Zeb left Alex with Wedge the next morning and joined Luke and Ezra once more. Their rented speeder shot across the plains, disturbing tall grasses and loth-cat dens, dodging tall rock spires.

The ride to the temple ruins took the better part of two hours. Zeb hated to be so far away – what if something happened at the medcenter? – but Hera had insisted he go back to the temple, and when Hera insisted, Zeb obeyed.

Zeb attempted to keep his worry under control, but Ezra turned around in the speeder’s passenger seat. “Hey, Zeb, you know we’d tell you if we sensed anything, right?”

“You’d better,” Zeb answered, but he grinned and ruffled Ezra’s hair, belying the anxiety of his words.

The temple rubble was in a deep pit dug by the Lothalian researchers trying to recover some local history. Zeb didn’t see how they were supposed to get something useful from a pile of rocks, but he figured he could help the Jedi move the rocks around if necessary.

Today, they approached the bottom of the pit carefully, stopping a fair distance from the temple. Zeb followed Luke to the entrance.

“Do you feel that?” Luke asked.

“Whoa,” said Ezra. “There’s something in there still.”

Even Zeb could sense something; all his fur stood on end and a chill ran through him.

Luke circled the rubble, hand out to try and feel a way in through the Force. “Here!” he called from around back. “I think this is it! It’s trying to get to us!”

Zeb followed Ezra at a lumbering pace, wondering if he really wanted to know what ‘it’ was. As a general rule, things that tried to get to him – or to Jedi – tended to be hostile.

Luke watched him approach with wide eyes. “The closer you get, Zeb, the stronger the connection is.”

Ezra nodded. “We need to get in there.”

“Guess that’s where I come in,” Zeb muttered, approaching the rubble.

“We got this, Zeb,” Ezra said, stopping him.

“A lot of my training with Master Yoda was floating rocks,” said Luke. “This’ll be no different.”

“Besides,” Ezra said. “It takes two to open the doors.”

Luke and Ezra stood next to each other, one arm outstretched, eyes closed, a slight frown on their faces as they concentrated. As Zeb watched, the rubble floated, swirling around and reforming itself into a door.

It’d been a while since Zeb last saw a Jedi use the Force; seeing Ezra and Luke work in concert just made him think of Kanan and how proud he’d be of Ezra. Zeb was so caught up in memories, he almost missed it when Ezra called his name.

“Zeb! Come with us!”

Zeb blinked away the past and followed Ezra through the door. From the outside, it just appeared to lead into blackness, but when Zeb stepped through–

He was in a place like no other he’d ever seen. No other that could exist; the laws of physics didn’t seem to apply. The place was black, with white-lined walkways going in all directions, and white-outlined doorways every so often along the paths. Whispers that Zeb couldn’t quite place filled the air.

“I’ve been here before,” Ezra said, looking around. “The temple brought me here after Kanan died.” He pointed at a doorway. “Those are doors to the past. You can watch or you can change things.”

Luke seemed alarmed. “This is the world between worlds?”

Urged on as if he was drawn by an invisible thread, Zeb left his Jedi escort behind, headed for the closest door. Luke and Ezra ran to catch up to him.

As they neared, a picture formed in the doorway: tall brown-trunked trees, green undergrowth, and–

And Zeb and Kallus hiding in that same undergrowth. Voices drifted out from the door, as if from a great distance.

> _“Yes. Yes, I will marry you, Garazeb Orrelios.”_
> 
> _“Good. That’s all I needed to know.”_
> 
> _“I suppose that’s all I need to know, too.”_

_This is when Alex’s Zeb died_ , Zeb realized. _I’m about to see myself die._

He couldn’t look away, not yet. “You said you can change things,” he said. “How do you do that?”

“Zeb, no, you can’t–”

He turned on Ezra. “I can save Alex years of pain, give him the life he should have had. Don’t tell me I ‘can’t’.”

“It’s too late,” Luke said sadly.

Zeb turned back just in time to see the charge take place. He reached for the doorway, intending to go through and hold Alex and his counterpart back, but he couldn’t move; either Luke or Ezra was holding him in place with the Force.

> _A white-hot explosion filled the forest, deafening even through the doorway. As rubble and shrapnel rained down, a purple figure could be made out, not quite whole anymore._
> 
> _Zeb felt his stomach lurch, but his attention wasn’t on the dead Zeb. It was on the living Alex, screaming and dragging himself through the wreckage left behind by the mine, gripping the dead Zeb’s fur._
> 
> _Alex was obviously hurt, physically and emotionally – Zeb was willing to bet Alex was in more pieces than his fiancé. Blood and dirt covered his body, clothes and skin both. That didn’t stop him from trying to get to his knees, from hailing a medic, from collapsing against the dead Zeb’s chest when he failed at his earlier goals._
> 
> _Around him, a battle occurred. The unhurt Rebels in the company continued the charge on the Imperial bunker, spurred on, perhaps, by their Captain’s anguish. Perhaps it was in spite of it, Zeb didn’t know._
> 
> _All he knew was that he wanted to drag Alex out of there at that moment._
> 
> _He couldn’t, however, not without messing up the present. It wouldn’t end Alex’s pain anyway; he’d already lost the man he loved._

Zeb turned from the doorway, slumped in defeat. “What’s the point of showing me this if I can’t change it?” he growled.

Ezra shook his head. “For me, I learned what I needed to be willing to do to get rid of Thrawn. Finding the place I was needed most, I think is how Ahsoka put it.”

“So I’m supposed to find out where I’m needed, is that it?” Zeb couldn’t help the slight irritation in his voice. He didn’t appreciate being messed with by the Force, whether or not it had brought Alex to him.

Luke gestured down the nearly invisible path. “Maybe we should see what else the world wants to show you before deciding what it all means.”

Zeb followed the Jedi onwards, white ripples spreading out from each step he took. 

The next doorway was simultaneously far away yet only took only a short trek to reach.

Zeb approached the circular doorway, the door lighting up and a picture flickering into view.

> _Alex moped over a drink. The holoscreen behind the bar showed it was what used to be Empire Day._
> 
> _From the toasts going up in the rest of the bar, Alex had found himself on an Imperial-friendly world. He spun in his seat, facing the loudest group of revelers. “You sure you want to go around toasting the Empire?” he asked them, projecting enough to be heard in the whole bar._
> 
> _Silence fell and one of the celebrants approached Alex, who slid off his stool and towered over the other man._
> 
> _It didn’t deter the Imperial sympathizer. “If you wanna celebrate the New Republic, you’re in the wrong place, Rebel. Here we saw the good the Empire brought to the galaxy.”_
> 
> _Alex laughed in his face. “I worked for the Empire and I worked for the Rebels. Want to know the things the Empire had me do in the name of peace and security? They aren’t pretty.”_
> 
> _“A defector, huh?” More men joined the first, surrounding Alex. “Defectors aren’t welcome here. You wanna move along.”_
> 
> _Pushing his sleeves up, Alex shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I think I want to bash some Imperial heads together.” He ducked down, sweeping a foot out and knocking the leader to the ground._
> 
> _Though he started things, Alex did not end them. Ten-on-one were poor odds, Alex’s Endor injuries holding him back despite his thorough training. It was only the intervention of the bartender that saved his life._
> 
> _Said bartender shut down for the night, shooing off the Imperial sympathizers and dragging Alex to prop him up against a booth._
> 
> _“I don’t know why you wanted to pick a fight tonight,” he said, “but you should learn to pick fights you can win.”_
> 
> _Alex grinned, his face red and swollen. “You heard me say I was a Rebel. I only pick fights that are impossible.”_
> 
> _“Right.” The bartender dabbed at his split lip with a damp towel. “Looks to me like you pick fights you want to lose. You trying to kill yourself or something?”_
> 
> _Alex rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Can’t do that. Promised. But…”_
> 
> _“But if someone else kills you, you’re not breaking your promise.” The bartender shook his head. “You’re a menace to yourself and others. Stay here until you sober up; those guys might still be waiting for you.”_
> 
> _“Good.” Alex spoke surely, almost soberly. “They can finish the job.”_

“Kriff it, Alex,” Zeb muttered. He’d known Alex hadn’t coped well with his Zeb’s loss, but he hadn’t known he’d done _that_ sort of thing. Zeb might have given up on himself, but he’d never given up on life. It never occurred to him that Alex – strong, brave Alex – _would_.

The realization that Alex had attempted to die, probably tried many times, filled Zeb with anger and sorrow. Anger that Alex would try to throw his life away, sorrow that he hadn’t been there to help him through his pain.

Ezra placed a hand on Zeb’s back. “He survived.”

“Whether he wanted to or not.” Zeb was pretty sure Alex no longer felt that way, but he couldn’t be sure anymore.

They wandered through the world between worlds for a while longer, stopping at windows, seeing more self-destructive behaviors from Alex. More brawls, drinking to excess, even small things such as not looking before he crossed a street or taking risky jobs to get by. Each window, each incident, broke Zeb’s heart a little more.

Zeb realized, somehow, they had circled back toward the entrance to this strange world – a vertical loop around the world and yet he’d never felt like the gravity came from anywhere but beneath him.

One last window.

> _Drunk again, Alex stumbled into an apartment, barely making it onto the bed. He flopped back, arms akimbo above his head, eyes fluttering shut almost as soon as he landed on the bed._

“This is it,” Zeb said, recognizing Alex’s sprawl. “This is when he showed up in our universe.”

The two Jedi clustered closer, watching.

Nothing happened except that Alex started snoring.

Feeling an inexplicable pull, Zeb stepped forward, ignoring Ezra’s warning, and stuck a hand through the doorway. When nothing terrible happened, he stepped through.

He found himself in a much more rundown version of his apartment on Sakiya, knowing the Force wanted him there, but not knowing why.

Luke and Ezra stepped through behind him. Ezra looked at Zeb, curious. “The Force is active around you both right now.”

“He’s about to come to our universe, that’s why,” Zeb said quietly. “I just don’t know how.”

“We don’t either,” said Luke.

Without any other good options, Zeb followed his instincts: he sat on the bed next to Alex and reached out to brush his shaggy hair from his face. This close to the unkempt Alex again, it was easy to see the toll his lifestyle had taken – and by contrast, the ease with which he faced the world in Zeb’s present.

Zeb’s hair stood on end as his hand neared Alex’s face and the air felt heavy with potential.

Fingers brushed across Alex's forehead. Zeb felt a spark, a static shock, and then–

Alex was gone, the bed unruffled as if he’d never been there at all.

Zeb looked at the Jedi, who were both staring at him. “What?” he asked.

“The Force,” Ezra started, “it was rough around you, like a storm, but when you touched him, it calmed.”

“It’s as if the Force wanted to send him somewhere, but didn’t know where until you touched him.” Luke closed his eyes again. “As if he was a puzzle piece the Force wanted to fit somewhere.”

“So you’re telling me there was a Sasha-shaped hole in our universe and the Force sent Alex to fill it – because _I touched him_?”

Ezra nodded. “I think so.” He gestured to the doorway. “We should get out of here, Zeb. We don’t belong here.”

Zeb complied, afraid that somehow he’d summon Alex back to his own universe. He stepped through the doorway and it was like a calm had come over the ‘world between worlds’, as Luke put it. The whispers in the distance hushed, the slight breeze that had been blowing stilled. Zeb no longer felt drawn to any of the doorways.

“Time to go, big guy,” Ezra said. “I think we did what we came to do.”

“Maybe the Force will calm now that the cycle is complete,” Luke mused. “Alex came here because of Zeb, Zeb was only there because of Alex.”

 _Alex_. Zeb had a lot to talk to his lover about, but first he needed to know Alex went through surgery all right.

Almost as soon as they stepped out of the temple, rocks crumbled behind them, closing the path. Ezra and Luke circled the ruins again, checking for any remaining activity.

Zeb’s comlink beeped; a message had been left for him. He checked his chrono and saw they’d been in the temple for over six hours.

 _Six hours? It felt like thirty minutes._ Zeb checked the angle of the sun, just to be sure, and sure enough, it was just past midafternoon.

He played the recorded message: Wedge, telling him Alex was out of surgery and in recovery.

Zeb breathed easier. One thing he could say for the world between worlds: it kept him from spending all day fretting about Alex’s surgery.

He’d fretted over Alex’s self-destructive tendencies instead.

Luke stared at Zeb, almost rudely.

“What?” Zeb asked.

“Are you sure you’re Force-null?” the Jedi asked.

Ezra laughed. “Luke, I think Kanan and I would have noticed–”

“Wedge has no Force sensitivity at all and he felt nothing here. But you felt something, didn’t you?”

Frowning, Zeb slowly nodded. “A tug to guide me. Like when we found Lira San.”

Ezra looked at Zeb with new eyes. “We helped you do that with the Force. But you knew the way before we did anything.”

Zeb held up his hands. “Look, I’m not sensitive to anything. I’d know if I was, wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno,” Ezra said. “I thought I was just lucky before Kanan came along.”

“And I didn’t know anything before Ben told me about the Force,” Luke added. “I’m not saying you’ve got the potential to be a Jedi; I’m just saying you’ve got an affinity for the Force.”

“Or the Ashla, if you want to call it that.”

“No.” Zeb shook his head. “It was instinct, that’s all.” It was a lie; Zeb knew instinct didn’t work like that, but he didn’t want to admit to anything. Surely, if he had some sort of Force sensitivity, Kanan would have been able to tell. _Something_ would have happened before he’d turned fifty.

_Something **did** happen. Lira San happened. That weird temple felt the same as finding Lira San._

Zeb waved off any more discussion. “Look, we’d better go or we’ll miss dinner and Hera will kill us.”

_And I want to talk to Alex if he’s awake._

_But what are we going to talk about? Opening the lithakan or if he still feels like he wants to die?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasana Translation  
> L’ashkerrir an – I love you  
> Ni astyr, sastyrial ashkerra – My strong, beautiful love  
> Sillir lis valir sir teranal – Let’s go to bed


	7. Chapter 7

Alex fell back asleep almost as soon as he woke up from surgery, woozy and drugged. Before he slipped off again, he looked around for Zeb.

No big purple lasat anywhere to be found. Just Wedge, trying to talk to him.

During the war, Wedge and the other pilot defectors had all adopted Alex – and he supposed Sasha – as a sort of ‘uncle’ and had come to him with problems, seeking advice. Back then, Alex had made an effort to connect with the young pilots, but at that moment, Alex only had energy for Zeb.

He allowed himself to drift off again. The moons hung low on the horizon, visible in the night sky out the window of his room, when he woke the second time.

Still heavily medicated, Alex glanced to the side of the room and saw Sabine there, sans Mandalorian armor. She was watching him intently. “You really awake this time?” she asked.

“I appear to be.” Alex’s throat was rough and dry, making his voice come out hoarse.

Sabine grabbed a large cup of ice water and handed it to Alex. “If you’re up to talking, Zeb’s waiting to hear from you.”

As much as Alex wanted to hear Zeb’s voice, he also felt a burning need to know what exactly things looked like after surgery. “Let me have a moment to myself,” Alex said. “And then I want to talk to him.”

“All right.” Sabine slipped out of the room, the door sliding shut behind her.

Alex pressed the button to raise the bed to a sitting position, but that sent a searing pain through his hips, forcing a gasp from him. Lowering the bed until he was comfortable once more, he moved aside the blanket and his medcenter gown and propped himself up on his elbows to see the damage.

It was a little disconcerting to look down and see his hips and left knee covered in bacta patches. He carefully lifted one to peek at the surgical site: the incision was shorter than he thought it’d be and seemed to be sealed with a glue of some sort.

Right now, except for the pain when he tried to sit up, he felt nothing; he could barely feel that he had legs at all, though he was able to wiggle his right foot. The movement reassured him a little. Whatever drugs they had him on must have been strong; Alex wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Some part of him would rather feel the pain than be numbed.

Covering himself back up, Alex called for Sabine to come back in. “What time is it?”

She shrugged. “Late enough it’s almost early. But Zeb said to comm him whenever you woke up.”

“I don’t want to wake him,” Alex frowned.

Sabine crossed her arms, comm in one hand. “If Zeb were in here instead of you, would _you_ want to wait ‘til morning to hear from him?”

With a resigned sigh, Alex held out his hand for the comlink. 

Sabine smiled. “Frequency’s already dialed in.”

Alex turned on the comlink and waited until he heard a groggy voice on the other end of the line. “S’bine?”

“Try again.”

He could practically _hear_ Zeb sit up quickly, ducking so he didn’t hit his head on the top bunk. “Alex! You’re awake! How’re you doin’?”

Alex couldn’t help but smile at Zeb’s voice. The lasat spoke eagerly but in hushed tones; obviously trying not to wake anyone else. 

“I’m still a little out of it,” Alex admitted. “But it seems to have gone well.”

“That’s what Wedge said. He said they’re keeping you for a few more days.”

“You know more than I do, then.” Alex blinked slowly; he was getting tired again. “Did you find anything out at the temple?”

“Ah. Er. Yeah.” Zeb sounded sheepish. “I’ll tell you all about it, but in person, okay?”

Alex frowned. “Zeb, what happened?”

“I can’t describe it over the comm,” Zeb said. “It was a weird Force thing. I might need Ezra and Luke to explain it.”

 _Weird Force thing_? “Are you all right?”

“Don’ worry ‘bout me,” Zeb said, then stifled a yawn.

Alex’s fond smile returned. “It’s the middle of the night. We should both probably sleep. But don’t think I’m letting you off with a ‘don’t worry about me’. I expect a full report in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” Zeb said, a little sarcastically. “Love you.”

Hearing those words again made Alex’s heart beat faster, as did the prospect of saying them back. “I love you, too. Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll be there as soon as you get out, but comm me when you can.”

“I promise. Goodnight, Zeb.”

“Night, Alex.”

Ignoring the indulgent grin on Sabine’s face, Alex handed the comm back.

She pocketed the comm and sat on the padded bench under the window. “If I sleep, you’re not gonna try and run off or anything, are you?”

Alex gave her an irritated look. “I doubt I can walk at all.”

“Wouldn’t necessarily stop Sasha if he was determined and I’m betting you’re the same.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alex huffed, “except to sleep.”

“Good. Zeb would kill me if I let you escape, even to go see him.” Sabine reached up and tapped the light controls, plunging the room into darkness.

Zeb crossed his arms and looked at the three young men. “So you’re leaving?”

“That’s what they said, Uncle Zeb,” Jacen said in a perfect eight-year-old ‘duh’ voice.

Zeb reached out and ruffled the boy’s green hair. “I did hear them, aki’a.”

Jacen ducked away. “Stop it!”

Turning back to Ezra, Luke, and Wedge, Zeb studied them. As much as he didn’t want to see Ezra go, he and Luke did have a mission to find Jedi artifacts and history that survived the Imperial purge. All three were adults and neither Zeb nor Hera had the right to stop them.

Zeb nodded at Wedge. “Thank you for watching Alex for me.” Sabine was with Alex now, and had said her goodbyes earlier, but Wedge had spent a considerable amount of time that week in Alex’s hospital room.

Wedge shrugged. “Not a problem; we had good conversations. He helped my counterpart in his galaxy escape Skystrike, too, so I figure I owe him for that, somehow.”

“And you two, stay out of trouble,” Zeb said, looking at the Jedi. It was a hopeless instruction and he knew it, but he had to say something light or face the reality he was losing Ezra yet again.

This time, though, Ezra had a standing invitation to visit Lira San, so it wasn’t goodbye forever.

Ezra probably sensed Zeb’s sorrow, because he stepped forward and hugged Zeb, Hera, and Jacen again. “I’ll see you guys again,” he promised. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Tried to leave you on an Imp destroyer and even that didn’t work,” Zeb joked. “Neither did me runnin’ off to Hutt Space.”

“See?” Ezra punched Zeb in the arm. “You’re stuck with me. I _am_ gonna come bug you and Alex before too long to see what the Force is doing with him.”

Zeb smiled. “I’ll see you then.”

With a final farewell, the trio walked out of the spaceport, headed for their own ship and their own adventures.

Hera looked over at Zeb. “Sabine and Alex should be here any minute.”

Zeb knew that, had been counting the seconds since Sabine commed and said Alex was getting discharged. He knew Alex would be in a hoverchair for a good while; what Zeb didn’t know was if he was personally ready to see Alex in more pain trying to move around. With any luck, their house would end up being hoverchair friendly.

“We’re going to go to the market and stock up on produce while we can,” Hera said. “Do you want to come?”

Normally, Zeb would have said yes, offered to be another pair of eyes on Jacen, another set of arms to carry supplies. But normally, Zeb wasn’t waiting for Alex. “Nah,” he said.

Hera nodded knowingly. Jacen followed closely as they left the spaceport, taking a right out on the street towards Capital City’s marketplace.

Zeb sat down on the open ramp, leaned back on his hands, waiting. Whenever Sabine and Alex arrived, he’d be ready.

It didn’t take long. A speeder cab pulled into the spaceport, stopping in front of the _Ghost_. Zeb clambered to his feet impatiently.

Sabine leapt out of the speeder, gesturing for Zeb to join her. “Need your help getting him out.”

Alex sat in the back of the speeder, dressed in his loose Lira San clothing, looking slightly perturbed that he couldn’t get out under his own power.

Zeb crouched next to the open door and ran a finger down Alex’s face. “You doing okay, ni ashkerra?”

Alex sighed and closed his eyes at Zeb’s touch. “I’m in less pain than I was yesterday,” he said. “But I still can’t walk.”

“Yeah,” Zeb murmured. “But that’ll come back. Until then, you got me. Show me where they worked so I don’t hurt you.”

Pointing out his surgical sites, Zeb figured out how best to pick up Alex while causing the least amount of pain. As carefully as he’d ever done anything, he picked up Alex and placed him in the hoverchair.

“Now to get you home,” Zeb said once Alex was in the _Ghost_. “We’re just waiting on Hera and Jacen. Ezra and Luke and Wedge already left.”

Alex nodded, eyes shut. “Wake me up when we get there,” Alex mumbled, obviously drifting off to sleep.

Zeb brushed his claws through Alex’s thick hair. “Whatever you say, love. Whatever you say.”

It took three weeks of exercises and rest, but Alex was soon able to stand and walk short distances. With some resentful glee, they got rid of the hoverchair and Alex hobbled his way through the house with a cane.

Zeb fussed over him every time he stumbled or overexerted himself; Alex would shoot back that the exercise was good, that he needed to push himself.

They came to a compromise: during the days, while Alex was awake, Zeb kept busy taking care of them both. At night, Zeb held Alex in bed, but something seemed different to Alex. Zeb was off, somehow.

 _Probably wishes I hadn’t done the surgery, wasn’t such a burden_.

Zeb didn’t fall for any of his subtle prompts for an explanation, which left Alex with few choices if he wanted to find out why Zeb was acting so differently from before the surgery.

 _He knows how to send me back,_ Alex feared. _And he wants to because I’m not Sasha. He’s just too kind to kick me out before I heal._

One day, Alex woke from a nap, finding himself alone in the bedroom. Out in the main part of the house, he could hear Zeb – working in the kitchen, it sounded like. As quietly as he could manage, Alex snuck out from the bedroom and down the hall. If he could catch Zeb off-guard, maybe he could find out what was going on.

Zeb dumped some ingredients into a blender and Alex used the noise to cover his unsteady but determined approach.

The blender stopped and Alex placed a hand at the base of Zeb’s neck, rubbing the fur there and saying his name softly at the same time.

Zeb startled, almost knocking the food he’d been preparing off the counter. “Alex! I thought you were still asleep.”

Struck with a sudden desire, Alex said, “L’ashkerrir an, Zeb.”

Zeb nodded. “L’ahkerrir an,” he replied, but it sounded rote to Alex’s ears.

“No.” Alex leaned against the counter for balance. “I _love you_ , Garazeb. But you’ve acted differently since I had the surgery and I want to know why.”

Frowning, Zeb protested, “I’m not. I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“And you have done that, wonderfully. But you still seem distant.” Alex tangled his fingers in Zeb’s beard. “What have I done to alienate you? Or was it something at the Jedi Temple? You’ve still not told me what happened there.”

“Alienate? I’m not tryin’ to alienate anyone,” Zeb said, looking distressed. “I jus’… Alex, you’re happy here, right? With me?”

Alex cocked his head to one side. “Zeb, you saw how I was doing _without_ you. I’m a much better person in a much better place thanks to you. Of _course_ I’m happy being with you.”

Zeb nodded, biting his lip. “Good.” He tried to turn back to his food prep, but Alex wouldn’t let him.

“That doesn’t answer my questions,” Alex said. “What did you see at the temple? What did I do to make you think I wasn’t happy?”

Zeb rinsed off his hands and faced Alex with a sigh. “I saw _you_ at the temple.”

Alex was the one caught off guard that time. “What?” 

“We went in the remains of the temple and there was this weird Force world. You could wander around it and watch life happen through different doors.” Zeb scratched the back of his head.

“That sounds impossible,” Alex said, attempting to convey his skepticism without being critical.

“I saw you. At Endor. I saw you get hurt and lose your Zeb.” He looked sorrowful. “I wanted to stop you from making that charge, to save the both of you, but Ezra and Luke wouldn’t let me. Said I couldn’t go changing the past like that.”

Alex froze in place, eyes wide. “You saw…?” _Me, losing my mind. Losing my heart. Losing my everything._

Zeb gave a quick nod. “That wasn’t all. I also saw what you did after he died.” He looked away from Alex. “The bar fights. Not taking care of yourself. The hundreds of ways you tried to let yourself die.”

Horrified, Alex covered his face with a hand. He didn’t know what to say.

“An’ I thought you were okay but then I saw that an’ I started wonderin’.” Zeb swallowed. “What if you still felt like that? What if you’d agreed to the surgery hopin’ you’d die during it? _What would I do if I lost the love of my life again_?”

“Zeb, I–”

“Do you still feel that way, Alex? Do I need to watch out for you trying to hurt yourself? Trying to hurt the man I love?”

“I– Zeb– I–,” Alex stuttered, suddenly losing all his usual eloquence. “I– no. I don’t feel like that anymore. Maybe I did a little at first, when it became clear you weren’t that Zeb and I thought you’d turn me away.”

Zeb faced Alex again. “I’d never do that.”

“I believe that. I have trusted you implicitly and you’ve shown me the sort of care only _he_ ever did.” Alex pulled his hand away from his face. “Zeb, I meant it when I said I love you. I don’t want to ever leave you or lose you. But if my past is a problem… well, I can understand that. You’ve already had to forgive a lot and there _is_ a limit to one’s ability to overlook things.”

Zeb grabbed Alex’s hand. “I haven’t ‘overlooked’ anything. I know all the things Sasha did in his past. I assume you did the same. It’s not a pretty history and if you’d done _anything_ except turn around and change your ways completely, I would probably still hate you.”

Alex nodded, feeling tears of shame well in his eyes.

“But you _changed_ , Alex. You became a new man, dedicated to doing the right thing. And _that_ man, I love. _That_ man, I want to spend my life with.” Zeb squeezed Alex’s hand. “But it broke my heart to see that man hurting so much.”

Alex stumbled forward, burying his face in the crook of Zeb’s neck. Strong arms wrapped around him and Zeb whispered reassurances in Lasana: promises not to leave, promises that Alex would never have to feel that way again, promises to never stop loving him.

Deep in his heart, Alex felt with absolute certainty that he was exactly where he needed to be.

Holding on to Alex’s hand the whole way, Zeb led them to the lake for the first time since Alex’s surgery. It was time to test if Alex’s surgery had worked.

“I’m not hand fishing with you,” Alex warned lightly, speaking in Lasana.

Zeb grinned. “Didn’t expect you to, love.” They stopped on the shoreline, and shed their shirts and Alex’s shoes, Alex leaning against Zeb to do the latter. “Ready to check on our island?”

Alex nodded, walking straight into the lake as soon as his socks were off. “Are you coming?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Zeb.

The water was chilly as Zeb waded in, feeling the familiar squish of the lakebed between his toes, but he’d expected that; it was deep into autumn on their part of Lira San. If it weren't for Alex, they wouldn't be out there at all.

In front of him, Alex bent down to chest level and pushed off the lake floor, starting to swim.

Zeb watched him closely for a grimace or other sign of pain.

Alex didn’t give any; in fact, he laughed and turned to tread water. “I barely feel this! It’s better than walking on land.”

With a relieved smile, Zeb swam to catch up to Alex. Alex waited for him and Zeb took the opportunity to grab his lover and kiss him. Their feet tangled under the surface, but Zeb didn’t mind. Alex didn’t seem to, either.

“Race you to the island,” whispered Alex, swimming away before Zeb registered the challenge.

“Vo’arik,” grumbled Zeb without much gusto, and followed Alex.

Zeb overtook Alex in the middle of the lake, but Alex reached the island only moments after Zeb. 

Alex slogged out of the lake, meeting Zeb on the island with a joyful smile. “Been a while since we’ve been here.”

“Last time we were here, I had to convince you to take care of your legs. You sorry?” Zeb sat high on the lakeshore, on the edge of the grass.

Joining him on the soft red-tipped grass blades, Alex nodded. “You were right. I should have taken care of myself before. I shouldn’t have given up as much as I did.”

Zeb nudged him with an elbow and a grin. “You should listen to me more,” he joked.

Alex was deadly serious when he replied. “You’re right.” He leaned over, laying his head on Zeb’s shoulder. “On my own, I make poor choices. I always have. But you… When I listen to you, I gain the most precious things in my life.”

Shifting a little, Zeb raised Alex’s face by his chin. Looking into his eyes, he said, “Right now I say we should test your legs more as soon as we get home.”

“Oh do you?” Alex’s face lightened again. “I could be talked into that.”

It’d been a month since they last slept together in anything other than the literal sense; Zeb hadn’t made a move for fear of hurting Alex. But if he could swim to the island…

Zeb leaned in and kissed Alex again. 

“How about we try something here?” Alex asked.

Zeb frowned at him. “Thought you said it was too sandy.”

Alex rubbed a hand over the grass. “Not up here, it isn’t.”

“Ah. Well in that case…” Zeb reached over and pulled Alex into his lap. “Let’s see what we can do out here.”

Smiling, Alex worked a hand down Zeb’s trunks. 

Zeb moaned, igniting at his touch.

He’d wanted this so badly, but had been so scared.

Looked like he didn’t need to be afraid of anything when it came to Alex.

A few short weeks later, Alex found he walked with no pain. He ran with no pain. He and Zeb had sex with no pain.

It was time for the next step.

Boldly, Alex retrieved both bo-rifles from the hall closet where they’d sat ever since that one time they tried to spar, not long after moving to Lira San. He held one out to Zeb, silently challenging him to a rematch.

Zeb took his bo-rifle carefully, almost reverently. “Are you sure?” he asked.

“I know what I can take,” Alex said, mirroring their last match. Unlike then, he really did have a handle on what sort of activity he could manage.

Apparently Zeb believed so as well, for he stood and gestured for Alex to lead the way.

The ring beside the house was still there, just as it had been months ago. Zeb took up position on the far side, Alex closer to the front of the house.

Together, they expanded and ignited their bo-rifles, turning down the voltage on the purple and green crackling energies on the ends of the staves. 

“You really ready this time?” Zeb asked, one more time.

“I’m as ready as I ever will be,” assured Alex.

To prove his point, Alex advanced, twirling the bo-rifle. He could see Zeb watching his movements, studying them. Alex lashed out with the bo-rifle, but Zeb blocked his strike. Despite the force used, Alex’s legs did not falter.

Both men smiled and they circled each other in the ring. “Five years for me, four for you,” Alex said. “I wonder how much we’ve forgotten.”

“Let’s find out.” Zeb rushed forward, an overhand blow.

Alex ducked and ran past Zeb, forcing him to overcompensate and lose his balance for a moment. He teetered on his toes, taking a few steps backwards. While he was distracted, Alex tapped Zeb in the back, giving him a small shock.

Zeb laughed. “That’s a new move for me.”

“You think Sasha and I will fight the same,” Alex said, but there was no wistfulness in his voice. “Think again, ni alitha.”

Another laugh and Zeb crouched a little, bo-rifle held in a defensive position, ready to take Alex’s next attack.

Bo-rifles clashed in the ring, and each time Alex scored a hit, Zeb was right behind him with a quick strike to his back or side.

Two things quickly became clear to Alex: first, he was _definitely_ not up to his old skill levels. Second, he and Zeb were pretty evenly matched anyway.

Good. That was what Alex had hoped for. He delighted at the thought of them improving together, becoming as dangerous a pairing as he had been with his Zeb.

“Tell me more about this lithakan,” Alex instructed as he tried to push Zeb’s bo-rifle aside.

“Trying to distract me?” Zeb asked. “It won’t work.”

“Maybe not,” said Alex, “but I still want to know.”

“I still own the building,” Zeb said.

“You do? You never told me that. Where is it?”

Zeb named one of the side streets leading away from the market in town. Alex knew exactly where he was talking about.

“That’s a good location,” he said. “What do you want to do with it?”

“I promised you we’d open it back up again when we’re ready, didn’t I?”

Alex laughed, slamming his bo-rifle down and just barely missing Zeb’s shoulder. “Do you really think I would make a good teacher?”

“No,” said Zeb. “I think you’d make an excellent one. Sasha loved it and I think you will, too.”

“I trust you,” Alex said. _More than you realize._

They sparred until they were both sweaty and aching, Zeb calling it quits before Alex would. He recognized his own stubbornness at play, but that stubbornness had brought him far, from the dank and dirty lower levels of Coruscant to beautiful, peaceful Lira San.

Following Zeb back to the house, Alex reached in his pocket. “Zeb?”

The lasat turned around, looking worried. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Alex smiled. “No, you didn’t. You haven’t ever hurt me.”

Zeb nodded. “Then what?”

Alex pulled his hand out of his pocket; he was holding the bracelet Zeb gave him when they’d first come to Lira San.

Eyes wide, Zeb watched Alex’s face, waiting for answers.

“When you gave me this, we were still a little confused as to each other’s identities. I don’t think that’s the case anymore.” Alex bit his lip. “You said to keep it in case I wanted to wear it. Garazeb, I want to wear this. I want to stay with you the rest of my life. I want you to be my Tinsana as I am yours.”

Zeb took a moment to answer, but Alex knew what he’d say anyway; the tears in his eyes betrayed him. “Yes,” Zeb said. “Alex, ni ashkerra, I want you to wear it. And then I’d like to teach you how to make one. I want one with _your_ hair, _your_ ribbon, not just Sasha’s.”

With a quiet nod – he didn’t trust himself to speak again – Alex held out the bracelet in his left hand. Gently, Zeb picked it up, wrapped it around Alex’s wrist, and tied the strands with an artful but complicated knot.

Zeb stepped closer, leaning down just enough to kiss Alex’s forehead. “I love you, Alexsandr. I’m glad the Force chose to bring you to me.”

Alex nodded, his throat thick, right hand fiddling with the bracelet. “I don’t know why it did, but I couldn’t be more grateful. Once again, Garazeb Orrelios saved me from myself and fashioned me into a better sort of person.”

“Nah, I didn’t fashion anything. It’s been in you the whole time.” Zeb brushed sweaty hair out of Alex’s eyes, then picked up Alex’s left hand, inspecting the bracelet. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever want to wear this.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Alex asked.

“You took so long, I thought maybe you didn’t want to.”

Alex shook his head, smiling. “No, Zeb, I was just waiting for the day when we were equals again.”

“And sparring was your goal?” Zeb asked.

“It was the first thing I failed at, so it was the last challenge I needed to achieve. I knew when you let me spar at full strength that it was time.”

Zeb squeezed his hand. “We’ve been equals since the start, Alex.”

“No, we weren’t. But I love you for thinking we were.” Alex looked down at Zeb’s bracelet, the one from Sasha. “You’ll keep wearing that, right?”

“Yes,” Zeb said.

“Good. I want you to keep Sasha with you, just as I’ll keep the Zeb from my universe. But you are mine, Zeb, and I am yours, without lessening what we had with them,” declared Alex, reaching a hand up to stroke Zeb’s cheek.

Zeb responded by turning and kissing Alex’s palm. “Ni Tinsana,” he said softly. “There’s a ceremony if you want, but by exchanging the bracelets, we _are_ bondmates, husbands, in the eyes of Lasan and Lira San.”

Alex nodded. “I’d like that. Your family should be here for that.”

“They’re your family, too, Alex.”

“I hope so, because they aren’t getting rid of me that easily – and neither are you.”

Alex pulled Zeb down into a kiss, deep and prolonged, and attempted to show how much he loved the lasat that way.

He wasn’t sure it worked, but he had a lifetime to work out how to do so. His Tinsana would always be there, ready to catch him before he drowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasana Translation  
> Aki’a – roughly “brat” or “squirt”  
> Ni ashkerra – my love  
> L’ashkerrir an – I love you  
> Ni alitha – sweetheart/lit. ‘my sparring partner’  
> Lithakan – fighting academy  
> Tinsana - bondmate


	8. Epilogue

Zeb leaned in the doorway of the Lithakan’s office, watching Alex work with the advanced class, comprised of mostly teenagers, a few kit prodigies, and a few more adults. 

Sometimes it was funny watching his husband work with the older classes; many of the teenagers were already taller than he was and outclassed him in weight. Watching him wield the staff, though, quickly disabused one of the notion he could be outfought. Alex had studied many staff techniques when he taught himself to use the bo-rifle, and he passed on those methods and styles to the youth of Lira San these days.

Alex glanced his way and winked before demonstrating a complicated move. About half the class managed to keep up on their first try, a pretty good percentage. By the fourth run-through, the whole class achieved the maneuver.

“Saflynal,” Alex said, calling out one of the students in now-flawless Lasana. “Come demonstrate that with me.”

The teenager joined him in the front of the room, holding her wooden staff in the ready position. Slowly, Alex demonstrated what the move looked like against a partner, gently tapping Saflynal where she’d be hit during a full-strength maneuver.

Alex praised her, instructing her to try the move on _him._

“Eri, Kashkana,” she replied, giving him little warning before she attacked.

Zeb had to keep from laughing when Alex got the wind knocked out of him because Saflynal didn’t pull her punches.

Zeb had been right, nearly a year ago at that point, when he said Alex would be a natural. Alex loved teaching, loved being able to use his highly specialized knowledge and skill sets in a positive way, loved having a calling in peacetime, not just war.

And Zeb had fallen right back into the old patterns at the Lithakan, except with Alex instead of Sasha.

Theirs was a comfortable life: warm mornings spent swimming, days at the Lithakan, and nights with limbs entangled. It was the life Zeb had imagined for himself and Sasha, then given up on. Getting a second chance at it was unbelievable.

But there Zeb was, watching the second love of his life doing something _he_ loved, with no end in sight.

Alex dismissed the class, coming over to rub cheeks with Zeb, mingling their scents. “You’re thinking something,” Alex said.

“You know what today is?” Zeb said, picking up Alex’s hand and examining his bracelet.

Alex sighed. “The anniversary of Endor.”

Zeb combed his claws through Alex’s hair. “You want to go out and drink tonight?” He held his breath, waiting for the answer.

“No,” Alex said. “Let’s go home. I don’t need to do that anymore.”

Zeb leaned forward, resting his forehead against Alex’s. “I’m proud of you.”

Alex chuckled sadly. “Don’t give me too much credit. It’s only because of you.”

“Nah, today it’s all you.”

“The thing is,” Alex said, “it might be the anniversary of Zeb’s death, but tomorrow is the anniversary of me finding you. I know which I’d rather focus on.”

Zeb smiled and pulled his husband into a hug. “Me too, ni li’ka’ym. Me, too.”

“Well then. We’re through for the day here. What do you say you take me home and we celebrate?”

“I’d love to do that, ni sasha.” Zeb stepped back and started shutting down the Lithakan’s office for the night, while Alex straightened things out front.

One year to the day. One year he’d gotten to spend with Alex.

Hopefully the first of many, many more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lasana Translation  
> Eri, Kashkana – Yes, Teacher  
> Ni li’ka’ym – my dearest one  
> Ni sasha – my heart
> 
> Y'all, this has been a trip. Hopefully you've had as much fun as I did - and hopefully you've all basked in the wonderfulness of werecadet's art. They went above and beyond the call of duty this Bang and I owe them so much. 💖💖💖

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr and flail over Rebels and Kalluzeb! [hixystix](https://hixystix.tumblr.com/) is my main blog, and [x-wing-junkie](https://x-wing-junkie.tumblr.com/) is my _Star Wars_ blog. New friends always welcome!


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